


Wayward

by FloraTheWriter



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Accidents, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternative Universe - Fantasy, Deception, Fluff and Angst, Good versus Evil, Hospitals, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Magical Forests, Non-Graphic Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Death, Possibly Unrequited Love, Romance, Shapeshifting, Temporary Character Death, This summary is hopeless, Time Travel, mentions of suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloraTheWriter/pseuds/FloraTheWriter
Summary: Small town thief, Han Jisung, is forced into community service at a local hospital where he's tasked with watching over a coma patient. But Yellow Wood is not a normal hospital. Soon Jisung finds himself portaling into the past where he falls in love with the unlikeliest person. Given the opportunity to save more than one life, will Jisung be able to leave his life of thievery in the past?
Relationships: Chan/?, Changbin/?, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Jeongin/?, felix/?, seungmin/?
Comments: 27
Kudos: 90





	1. When a punishment becomes a blessing in disguise

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Due to recent events I took the decision to rewrite this fic (previous title: We Would Have). I've changed the title because this story is so close to my heart and I wanted it to have a fresh start.  
> I hope you enjoy this 💞💞💞

Jisung had forgotten what it was like to love the rain. A ghost of a memory danced before him, a child splashing about in a puddle of water, his smile making up for the absence of the sun, his eyes full of hope. But Jisung wasn’t a child anymore. 

Now he scowled at the rain, his eyes narrowed, bearing the cold droplets a grudge. Rain was the last thing he needed right now. It had been a difficult night, and morning had arrived far too soon. While most people were still gathering the energy to clamber out of bed, Jisung had been scouring the alleyways, looking for someone who’d let down their guard, who’d take their eyes off a valuable possession. He’d been doubtful he’d find anything, and he hadn’t.

A small time thief in a big city, there was one thing Jisung had learned well – those who had too much, _cared_ little for their possessions but _guarded_ them well. Unfortunately, the hi-tech security systems rich households purchased make sure that thieves like Jisung can’t get in, and if they got in, they’d only be leaving in handcuffs. 

Jisung had resorted to stealing from people not unlike himself – people who struggled to make a living. He wasn’t a psychopath – he didn’t enjoy it, and he felt remorse. Sometimes, he’d even apologise _before_ stealing, and sometimes he’d leave a note of apology. When the guilt _really_ consumed him, he’d visit the victim a few days later, leave a small token – a sandwich or an apple. 

He had no choice, really. He had to make ends meet somehow - that’s why he’d stolen the fishmonger’s purse. How could he have known that there was a policeman right there, looking at the mackerel for sale? Oh, it wasn’t just any policeman. It was _that_ policeman – the one who’d caught Jisung a million times before.

His grandmother, he told Jisung, had been friends with Jisung’s own grandmother for years, hence his leniency. Jisung had never been arrested by him. Until now.

He leaned against the police cruiser, his hands cuffed, his blonde hair plastered to his face. “It’s cold,” he complained. “Can we get in the car or…?”

Johyuk frowned. “In a hurry to get to jail? It’s just a little rain. Maybe it’ll wash away your sins, Jisung,” he said sarcastically. Officer Won Johyuk was a bulky-framed man with dark hair and even darker eyes that seemed to see right through Jisung’s seemingly unbothered attitude.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Come on, Johyuk. Let me go. Last time?” he tried to school his features into a mask of innocence. 

The rain didn’t seem to bother Johyuk. He stood with his arms folded, his square jaw set into a firm grimace. “I can’t keep doing this for you. Of course, I do feel bad that your mother has to tolerate having _you_ for a son. But the law is the law, and I can’t ignore it any longer.”

Jisung ignored the pang that Johyuk’s words brought him and looked at him beseechingly. “One last time, okay? If you catch me again, arrest me.”

“You’re kidding,” Johyuk muttered under his breath, fingers trailing his braided beard. “If I catch you _again_? You’re not even saying that you won’t do it again!”

“Fine, I won’t do it again,” Jisung shrugged, the lie obvious to both of them.

But Johyuk shook his head. “Look, I won’t arrest you. But…”

Jisung looked at him suspiciously. “What?”

“Community service.”

Jisung snorted. “You serious? Community? Service? Serving the community? _Me_?”

“Yes, Jisung,” Johyuk glared, patience waning. “Community service, and if you think that’s beneath you, there’s a cell waiting for you. You choose.”

“That’s not much of a choice.” There was no way Jisung was stepping foot inside a jail cell.

Johyuk nodded, thumbing through a set of keys before uncuffing him. “Then I’ll see you at six this evening. Yellow Wood Medical.”

The day flew by, and all Jisung had managed to score was a cell phone from an unsuspecting old woman at the bus station. He tucked the phone into his jeans pocket, his feet automatically heading in the direction of his favourite store. 

_CB Electronics_ was situated in a dingy alleyway that the ordinary person avoided at all costs, mostly because of the putrid smell of rotting dirt, and who knows what else. The door was a piece of old rusty tin that had probably been the roof of a house at some point. It was wedged into the gigantic hole in the middle of the wall, so that if you wanted to enter you had to lift the entire door to get in. 

Jisung grunted as he shifted the piece of rusty tin out of the way, and back into place once he was inside. The store was dimly lit, in part because Chan liked dark spaces, and in part because the electricity supply was illegally being pulled from a nearby government office.

“What do you have for me?” Chan asked, swivelling around in his beaten office chair. 

Jisung propped himself on an unstable table littered with little gadgets. “Nothing big,” he shrugged, handing the phone to the curly haired blonde.

Chan looked at him incredulously. “Seriously Ji? What am I going to do with this?” He immediately began taking the phone apart. “It’s so old I can probably salvage some of it to use as spares.”

“Great,” Jisung clasped his hands together. “How much am I getting?”

Chan scoffed. “You can have my leftover pizza.”

Jisung rolled his eyes but grabbed the box anyway, stuffing half a slice of double cheese pizza into his mouth. In all honesty, the pizza was worth much more than the phone.

“You’ve been off your game lately,” Chan regarded him suspiciously. “Everything okay?”

“Great,” Jisung mumbled, his cheeks stuffed. He swallowed and considered his response before taking another bite. “I guess I’m running out of stuff to steal.”

“Maybe you should think of getting a _real_ job,” Chan sighed, holding a battery up to the light like it held the secrets of the universe. It was a cellphone battery for goodness sakes. 

“Yeah, like you?” Jisung scoffed. “I’m sure I’d also make a hell of a lot of money purchasing stolen goods.”

Chan laughed at this. “Not when your supplier is running out of stuff to steal.”

Jisung grabbed a bottle of water off Chan’s desk and took a swig. “Bet you have loads of suppliers though.”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged. “But I only trust a few.” He offered Jisung a smile before turning back to the battery.

Jisung appreciated that sentiment. He and Chan went way back. Chan was the one who bought Jisung’s first stolen item – a pack of ballpoint pens. Jisung had been twelve; Chan had been a few years older. All Jisung wanted was some money for a school trip, so he’d stolen the pens from a classmate, and after school he’d stood in the downtown market asking passersby if they needed to buy pens. Chan hadn’t even needed the pens, Jisung knew. But he’d bought them out of pity anyway.

Jisung stopped mid-chew at the sight of the brown suede jacket draped over a chair. “Is that new?”

Chan took a moment to decipher what Jisung was asking. He glanced at the jacket. “Bought it off someone at the market this morning. Why?” Jisung hopped off the table and Chan grabbed the jacket, holding it to his chest. 

“Come on,” Jisung whined. “I brought you the phone.”

“And this jacket is probably worth ten times more than that phone,” Chan glared. 

“ _Please_ ,” Jisung implored, his lips forming a pout. “I’ll bring you back something tonight – something worth ten times more than the phone.” Hospitals were full of rich people – sick, rich people who couldn’t look after their possessions. Maybe his community service would be a blessing in disguise.

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Fine, but I’m holding you to that.”

Jisung grinned, wrenching the jacket out of Chan’s hands. “Deal.”

He made his way along the potholed road, the jacket slung over his shoulder, the unfinished pizza tucked into a lunchbox he borrowed from Chan. 

He reached a point where the road diverged, one path leading to the high-class suburban neighbourhoods with happy families and posh cars, and the other path leading to the rundown buildings that were politely referred to as houses but were really just blocks of old brick. He looked longingly and begrudgingly to the left, but his destination had always been on the right. Home.

He knocked softly on his parents’ door, hoping that door wouldn’t come off its hinges. His mother opened it a sliver and then a little more when she glimpsed him. “What do you want?”

He frowned. “Mom, I –”

“What do you want, Jisung?” she asked again, this time firmer.

“I just want to see Seungmin,” he sighed. “Please.”

His mother gave him an icy stare. “He’s studying.”

“Mom, please,” Jisung pleaded. “I won’t be long.”

To his relief, she relented. “Five minutes,” she warned. “Your father will be home soon and I’ll be off to work in a few minutes.”

Jisung had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Both his parents worked for the same loathsome family. While his father was employed as a driver, his mother worked as a housekeeper. They were both paid meagrely for their work, and Jisung couldn’t stand it.

He stepped into the house, his chest constricting the way it did every time he saw the scant furnishings. He could count the number of items in the room – a stove, a refrigerator, a table, three chairs and a worn out mattress on the floor where his parents slept. He reached into his jacket pocket pulling out a bag of apples. He set them on the table and glanced at his mother who stood stoically to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.

There were two other rooms – a bathroom, and a bedroom. His parents had given the bedroom to Seungmin years ago. He needed his own room for his studies, they said. Jisung knocked on his door, not waiting for an answer before pushing it open. Seungmin looked up from a textbook, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his brother.

“Jisung!”

“Hey,” Jisung grinned, pulling him into a hug and plopping down beside him on the bed. “You’re home early? Are you done with college for the day?”

Seungmin nodded. “I have a test tomorrow so I have the afternoon off to study.”

“Good, good,” Jisung nodded. “You’ll do well.” Of course Seungmin would do well. There was no one more intelligent than Seungmin. He was in his third year of law school and was going to be a great lawyer one day, he was sure of it. He’d make their parents proud. He’d do what Jisung could never do.

“I brought something for you,” Jisung held up the jacket. “You like it, right?”

Seungmin pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and examined the jacket. “It looks expensive,” he hesitated, his shoulders slumping. “Jisung, who did this belong to?”

Jisung shifted his feet, feeling embarrassed at the unspoken accusation, “Minnie, just take it. I didn’t steal it, I promise.” But he was going to pay for it with the belongings of some unfortunate patient.

Seungmin smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he touched the fabric, “I love it.”

“Try it on,” Jisung urged, digging in his backpack. “And here’s some pizza. Double cheese.”

He was about to compliment the fit of the jacket on Seungmin, but a crash from outside the room startled them both. Their father flung open the door. “Out!” he yelled at Jisung like he was some kind of rabid stray dog. “Out of my house!”

Jisung gulped. “Dad, I was just –”

“We are _not_ your family!” his father’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’re no son of ours.”

Jisung felt a stabbing ache in his chest. It was the same ache he felt every time they uttered those words. He gave Seungmin a pat on the back before leaving the room, his head bowed. He saw the bruised apples scattered on the floor as he left and hoped they’d throw them out for the birds at least.

“Thieving scoundrel,” he heard his father mutter before he shut the door.

His hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, Jisung walked with his head hung. He still had a good thirty minutes before he was to meet Johyuk at the hospital. He reached there in twenty.

He stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, looking in awe at the old-fashioned building. He’d passed it a few times, but hadn’t really stopped to behold its odd picturesque appearance, like an old coliseum with its white columns spiralling tall. Unlike the other hospitals with their sleek modern designs, boasting their latest medical advancements, this one was quite self-effacing. Only the dull gold-plated lettering which read: _Yellow Wood Medical_ , gave away that it was a hospital.

There were no people rushing to and fro, no ambulances pulling up in urgency. The brown oak doors were closed, and for a minute Jisung wondered if the hospital was actually still running. 

The familiar siren of the police cruiser rang in the air, startling Jisung and announcing Johyuk’s arrival. The policeman jumped out of the car, straightening his uniform and giving Jisung a disapproving onceover. His approach reminded Jisung of a charging bull, and he felt the urge to turn on his heel and flee.

“What? Am I underdressed or something?” Jisung asked with a laugh, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

But Johyuk scowled. “You could have at least brushed your hair. But it’s fine. Let’s go in.”

Jisung pointed to the closed doors. “You sure we’re at the right place? This place looks kind of… dead.”

“And I don’t think many people inside will appreciate your choice of words,” Johyuk gave him a push towards the doors. “Let’s go.” He walked a step behind Jisung as though speculating he might make a run for it. 

Jisung had considered it.

He turned the handle on the door, and the right-side swung open to reveal a lobby that reminded him a lot of a church. Murals of angels decorated the walls, and to Jisung’s surprise, there were actually people inside – not many, but a few in white coats. An old woman sat the reception and waved them over.

“Officer Won,” she smiled. “The doctor is expecting you on the fifth floor. Is this our little helper today?”

Jisung took great offence to being called _little_ , and gave her a tight smile, raising his hand in greeting. Johyuk thumped him on the back and he immediately bowed, murmuring a “nice to meet you”. 

“This way,” Johyuk gestured to an elevator that stood inconspicuously on the far side of the lobby. It seemed so out of place amidst the angel fresco that it was almost as if it had been stuck in the wall as an afterthought.

“So what am I going to do here?” Jisung tapped his foot as the elevator whirred upwards. “Look after kids or something?”

Johyuk snorted. “Who in their right minds would entrust _you_ with kids? You’ll do whatever they task you with – most likely making beds, or cleaning – menial tasks fit for someone like you.”

“So you’ve –”

A purr from the corner of the elevator made them both whip around to find the source staring at them with blinking yellow eyes. Jisung cringed. He was more of a dog person. “Is this – is this normal for a hospital?” he inclined his head towards the black cat.

Johyuk shrugged and turned away from the cat. “Probably just a stray.”

The cat eerily held Jisung’s stare until he too turned away. “Anyway,” he ignored the chill moving up his spine, “you’ve done this before then?” He glanced at Johyuk. “I mean, brought people here for community service?”

Johyuk nodded. “If I threw everyone in a jail cell, our small station would be overrun. And this is definitely not my first time bringing someone into Yellow Wood. It’s a good place to… reflect on one’s decisions.”

Jisung pursed his lips. Was he really going to pick up after sick people? What if he got sick? What if he got an infectious disease? What if he died? He didn’t even have an insurance policy. “I need an insurance policy.”

“What?” Johyuk gave him an amused glance. “I don’t think you can afford such, Jisung.”

He was right, of course. Jisung cast one last look at the cat which followed them out of the elevator, disappearing down the hallway. The fifth floor was deserted and somehow Jisung wasn’t surprised. The lighting in the corridor was bright and fluorescent, making him squint. He only fully opened his eyes when they entered a circular room.

 _Circular room?_ Jisung blinked. He’d never seen or heard of a circular room in a hospital. He looked around and sure enough, the beds were arranged in a circle, mimicking the room’s strange shape. Next to the bed, straight ahead stood a slim male with strawberry blonde hair, a brown folder in his hands and a pen squeezed between his teeth as he stared up at a monitor.

“Hello, Felix,” Johyuk approached the male with a smile Jisung had never seen before. “How’s he doing?”

The doctor shook his head, finally turning away from the monitor. His gaze strayed to Jisung where it lingered for a few seconds. He removed the pen from between his teeth. “Come closer,” he beckoned to Jisung, his voice strangely deep for his gentle persona.

Jisung’s footsteps were trepid as he moved closer to the bed. His eyes flickered down to the occupant, and he stared. For the second time that day, Jisung saw his childhood play out before him. _The orange glow of the sun as it sets the horizon on fire; the crystalline structure of a delicate snowflake sitting on the tip of your finger; a lone red flower sprouting from the endless grey rubble_. The memories lit up and faded like fireworks in the night’s sky. Why those memories had chosen that very moment to make an appearance was unknown to him.

“We don’t know his name, so he’s John Doe for now.”

Jisung’s eyes flickered to the doctor and then back down to the patient. He couldn’t bear to lift his gaze for more than a second. It was the kind of beauty you see through child-like eyes, a magical, otherworldly, never to be forgotten kind of beauty – _sunset, snowflakes, flowers_ – as beautiful as the memories buried deep inside Jisung’s heart.

The angel-like being seemed young, around Jisung’s age – perhaps a few years older, but not younger. It was as though each of his angular features had been carved to perfection, his lips pink and heart-shaped, his eyes slanted, his lashes long. Jisung was almost tempted to touch his cheek, to see whether he was real and not a sculpture placed in a bed with the covers tucked around it.

Jisung tilted his head. “He looks… dead.”

That earned him another thump on the back from Johyuk. “He’s in a coma, you fool!”

“He was found floating near the pier this morning,” the doctor explained, his tone as gentle as his voice would permit. “We think he jumped off the highway bridge.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Jumped? Like… Like suicide?”

“It’s likely,” the doctor nodded. “He was lucky. A few more minutes and I don’t think we would have been able to save him.”

Jisung frowned. If the male really had wanted to kill himself, jumping off that bridge was a sure-fire way to get it done. He didn’t think the male would have considered himself _lucky_ to be saved.

“Anyway,” the doctor tore his gaze away from the monitor. “That’s where you come in, Jisung,” he said. “You’ll be keeping him company.”

Jisung blinked. “I’ll be what?”

“Keeping him company,” Johyuk snapped. “Didn’t you hear?”

“But he’s d – in a coma,” Jisung shrugged. “Doctor, how can I keep him company?”

The doctor chuckled. “Please, call me Felix. I suppose we’re colleagues now, aren’t we? Well, some people would say it’s hopeless keeping a coma patient company. But others – like myself – believe that talking to coma patients, reading to them, or just telling them about your day can appeal to their consciousness.”

“So, should I just… sit here and talk to him or read from a book?” Jisung raised an eyebrow. This was going to be a walk in the park – a slightly creepy walk in the park – but an easy one.

“At least two hours should be enough for today,” the doctor, Felix, glimpsed the time on his wrist watch. “But be here bright and early tomorrow morning. Say… 7:30?”

Jisung nodded. “Sure.”

Johyuk headed for the door, but Felix hung back a bit. “If you need help, ring that bell over there.” He gestured to the large silver bell on the bedside table.

Jisung frowned. “I thought hospitals were all modernized with buzzers and stuff.”

Felix laughed. “Trust me, I did too. I’ve only been working here for a month. It’s a lot different from the other hospitals I’ve been to. But I suppose I’ll get used to it at some point.”

Jisung watched them leave, Johyuk shooting him a look that clearly read ‘there’s a jail cell with your name on it if you don’t behave’. 

Jisung plopped down into an uncomfortable wicker chair, his bottom already sore. He looked at the male whose name he yearned to know. _What name could possibly belong to this face?_ He shook his head at how poetic he’d become. _You think you’re some kind of Romeo now_ , he chided himself. But was he actually going to talk to this guy? What were the chances he’d actually hear him? Maybe just sitting with his mouth shut was the best course of action. If Jisung was in his position he’d want the peace and quiet. 

And he did seem so at peace. The covers were pulled up to his chest, revealing the stark white hospital gown they’d dressed him in. “I wonder whether you like white,” Jisung whispered, staring down at him transfixed yet again. “I wonder what your favourite colour is.”

He was about to sit back, when the glint of something caught his eyes – a flash of gold. 

_Oh, jackpot!_ He examined the gold necklace around the patient’s – the guy’s neck. It felt weird calling him a patient. It felt impersonal, not that Jisung would ever bother getting to know him personally. He didn’t have the energy for friends. Chan was an exception. But others, no. His eyes widened at the gold heart hanging from the necklace. It was leaden with diamonds and would surely get him enough to pay off the balance of Seungmin’s college tuition that wasn’t covered by his scholarship. This was truly a blessing in disguise.

“Are you going to steal that?”

Jisung let out a startled yell, his heart thumping against his chest. He fell back into his chair, turning around to see who had caught him in the act, and preparing to make some kind of excuse.

“Whoa!” Again, he yelled, this time louder. “I swear you weren’t there when I came in!” he stood up and looked wide eyed at the male who peered at him from one of the other beds.

“Maybe you should have been more observant,” the dark haired male said in a bored voice. He sat up, pulling the covers around him. “Maybe if you weren’t so intent on stealing…”

Jisung balked. “I – I wasn’t,” he lied, wondering how dull-witted he was to not have noticed another patient in the room.

“Hmm,” the male smirked, obviously not believing him. “Jisung, right?”

Jisung nodded. He must have heard him talking to Felix and Johyuk. 

“Well, I’m Changbin.”

“Uh,” Jisung forced a smile onto his face, hoping the male would forget about the stealing incident. “Nice to meet you.” Changbin stared at him for a second, before closing his eyes and sliding under the covers.

Jisung breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn’t mention it to Felix and Johyuk. But it also meant he couldn’t steal the necklace. Not just yet. He’d give it a few days.

He sat back and closed his eyes, opening them when he felt a strong gust of wind pass over his skin. He should’ve worn a jacket. But… wait. None of the windows were open. Where did the breeze come from? He glanced around and noticed the tapestry beside him flapping against the wall. “You also noticed the breeze huh,” he chuckled then scolded himself for talking to a tapestry.

 _Wait a minute_. Had this tapestry been here the whole time? He could’ve sworn the walls had been bare… He stared at the wall-hanging. It looked expensive. Maybe he could… No, there was no way that would fit unnoticed under his shirt. Well, it was a pretty thing anyways. He admired the needlework. It depicted a forest, the leaves of the trees woven in a yellow-gold colour. If you looked closely a path could be seen between the trees. And –

No, it was a trick of the mind. It had to be – because just as he felt the whisper of another breeze, some of the golden leaves appeared to be swaying too. 

He was going crazy. He had to be. Hospitals made people like this, he decided. They made you hallucinate and imagine crazy shit. Nevertheless, he shifted his chair slightly away from the tapestry, just for good measure, and forced himself to look away.

But the next breeze wasn’t so gentle. It tugged at the ends of his hair and cast prickly goosebumps on his skin. “Holy shit,” he muttered, rubbing his arms to generate some warmth. And he dared to look at the tapestry again. This time there was no denying it. The leaves weren’t just moving – the branches were swaying from the force of the wind! “Oh you’ve gotta be joking. This can’t be real.”

He stood up, kicking his chair away. He pressed his face closer to the tapestry wondering if it was some kind of digital glass thing. He reached out a finger, slowly moving it toward the edge of the tapestry. 

Glass, fabric, something solid – that’s what he expected. But he never expected his finger to move right _through_ the tapestry. He froze in place when his finger plunged into cold air. 

“I’m dreaming.” There was no other explanation for it. He pulled his finger back, and this time he moved his entire hand shakily towards the border of the tapestry. He braced himself.

He gasped, almost shrieked, when his hand plunged into a cold, open space. He immediately pulled it back. Again, he experimented, propelling both hands into the tapestry, both waving about into cold air. He stepped closer to the wall. “Hello?” he whispered, wondering if there was someone on the other side of this – this whatever it was.

There was no answer, but he was inquisitive. He inhaled as though about to plunge his head into water, and moved his head forward.

“Ouch!” he drew back when his head met the hard surface of a wall. He scowled. His hands were still submerged. _So now?_ He bit his lip. _Maybe…_

He placed the tip of his foot along the bottom edge of the tapestry and gasped when it dipped through, making contact with a hard surface – the ground. 

_Don’t do it, Jisung._

_Do it, Jisung_.

With two hands and a foot already inside the tapestry, he debated whether to experiment further. What the hell, it wasn’t like he could get hurt in a dream. He felt a tingle of excitement, and a shiver went up his spine – this dream was the most fun he’d had in ages.

He placed his right foot into the tapestry and let out a disbelieving laugh as he stumbled through. 


	2. Valentine by Proxy

As far as magical dreams went, this one was fairly disappointing. He was sure when he stepped through the tapestry (and he was still trying to wrap his head around  _ that _ part) that he’d end up in the same golden forest that had been woven onto the material. 

Where he’d actually ended up was far from intriguing and magical. He stood inside the diner, blankly surveying his surroundings. From the display window he gathered that he was in  _ Mimi’s Dazzling Diner.  _

As a kid he’d always stood outside this very window and drooled over the menu displayed in colourful, twisty font. The white choc cappuccino and blueberry cheesecake always sounded the most appealing. But of course, Jisung could never afford even a glass of water at Mimi’s. It was situated on Jujang Street, and that just said it all. All the rich kids hung out here after school. Jisung always felt out of place walking down the street in his Hangdo Public School uniform. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be walking down that street. But these rich kids were always careless with their wallets, and he took advantage of that.

Even now, as he looked around the diner, he could see wallets carelessly strewn on tables.  _ Dumb kids _ . And for some reason Jisung couldn’t comprehend, Mimi’s appeared to be hit by a hurricane of red décor – red table coverings, red roses, red napkins, red cutlery. Was it national red day or something? 

He inwardly sighed. Couldn’t he have a better dream? He furrowed his brows, wondering whether he was actually supposed to be  _ aware _ that he was dreaming. Was that possible? Oh well, if it was a dream, maybe he could have a slice of that blueberry cheesecake without any charge.  _ Best dream ever _ .

He started toward the counter, but was stopped by a burly old woman, with an apron tied around her waist and a jug of orange juice in her hand. 

“Oh I bet I know who you are!” she exclaimed, giving him a onceover. “And you’re so late! He’s been waiting for an hour and a half! I have half a mind to pour this jug of juice over your head, young man!”

Jisung stepped back, wide eyed at the threat. Who was this? How did she know who he was? Who’s been waiting for an hour and a half? And why did she want to dump orange juice on his head? “Uh I um –”

“This way!” she placed a heavy arm around his shoulders ushering him towards a booth. “He’s right here.”

“But – but I…” Jisung spluttered as he was pushed into a booth. He clutched his aching shoulder and groaned, about to give the woman a mouthful but she’d already hurried away. “What the hell, man…”

“Who are you?”

Jisung stared at the male in front of him.  _ Holy shit. Holy holy holy shit _ . His John Doe from the hospital – right here, in front of him.

He looked a bit different –  _ younger _ . His cheekbones weren’t so prominent, but the slight chubbiness was adorable. His black hair was cropped short, and a pair of round-framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. His fingers clutched a patterned red and white woollen scarf around his neck and his bulky black parka enveloped him like a blanket, the emblem of his Brightstar High jersey partially obscured.

“Who are you?” he repeated, his lips curved downward, obviously unimpressed by Jisung’s intrusion.

“Oh I – I’m Han Jisung,” he shook off his shock and smiled. “The uh… That lady thought you were waiting for me.” How strange to be dreaming of  _ this _ guy. Maybe Jisung had been staring at him too long hence his sudden appearance in this dream.

“Oh,” the male looked embarrassed, pink flooding his pale cheeks. “Um, well, if you want, you could um… You could sit here. I was just going to leave in a few minutes anyway.”

Jisung stared, wondering… “What’s your name?”

The dark haired male looked taken aback by the question, almost suspicious. But he relented. “Minho. Lee Minho.”  _ Lee Minho _ . So that was the name his dream had conjured up. He had to admit, it fit him well. He looked like a Minho.

“You’re kind of staring and I feel weird.”

Jisung immediately shifted his gaze, his cheeks heating up like a furnace at Minho’s admission. “I’m sorry, I was just…” And he spotted the half-eaten slice of blueberry cheesecake on the table. “Oh.” His dream had probably placed it on the table just for him.

“You can have that if you want to,” Minho shrugged. “I’m not gonna finish.”

“Oh,” Jisung licked his lips, unable to deny himself the pleasure. It was a dream anyway, so he could be shameless. “If you’re sure…?”

Minho gave him a shy smile that made Jisung’s stomach somersault. “I’m sure. I mean, if it won’t mess up your braces.”

The red fork between Jisung’s fingers cluttered onto the saucer. “My  _ what _ ?”

“Um,” Minho pointed at Jisung’s mouth. “Braces.”

Slowly, Jisung brought his fingers up to his mouth to touch his teeth, and found wire instead. “Oh my god.” The last time he’d had braces he’d been in middle school.  _ Middle school _ . No way. No way! He touched his hair and wished he could melt into the ground. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he could pass for the fifth member of The Beatles. His hair was long, grown past his collar and falling over his ears. And oh god, he was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and green pinafore, thick lensed glasses sticking out of his pocket.  _ What the hell kind of nightmare is this… _

“You don’t look so good,” Minho leaned forward. “Are you okay, Jisung?”

Jisung snapped out of his stupor. “No,” he looked at Minho glumly. “This is the most awful nightmare I’ve ever had, and trust me, I’ve had some bad ones.”

“Yeah,” Minho sat back and stabbed his fork into the abandoned cheesecake. “Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes. “You got stood up too, then?”

“Huh?” Jisung blinked. “Oh… No, nothing like that.” 

“Well then, your day can’t be worse than mine,” Minho swallowed a chunk of the cake. “I mean, what kind of loser gets stood up on Valentine’s Day?” He jabbed the fork at himself. “Yep, me.”

_ Valentine’s Day! _ That explained the red storm. He looked sympathetically at Minho. This really must suck for him. Jisung had never been on an actual date before. Sure, he had hook-ups but never a proper date. He couldn’t imagine how awful he’d feel if he were stood up.

“I’m sorry about your date.”

“I was stupid to think that he’d actually show up,” Minho muttered, stabbing at the cake again like it was the embodiment of his enemy.

“And why’s that?” Jisung tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t he show up?”  _ He _ … Jisung internally lit up at that and he had to try to find his internal light switch to stop from beaming on the outside.

Minho laughed at this and Jisung’s stomach did another somersault. “Because I’m… me? I try to be nice and friendly and polite. But obviously that’s not enough for him. I mean, he’s that guy.  _ Incredibly _ good-looking, so intelligent that he skipped a grade, and an athlete. I mean, how could I possibly stand a chance with him?”

“Hey,” Jisung’s lower lip jutted out into a pout. “You’re more than enough. I’m sure of it. Maybe he’s just… just clever when it comes to books, but stupid when it’s down to the things that actually matter.” He wished he could come up with something more comforting, but his brain seemed to be malfunctioning. 

Minho chuckled at Jisung’s rationale. “You’re a sweet kid, Jisung.”

“Kid?” Jisung balked, flushing from embarrassment. “I’m not a kid.”

“Really?” Minho raised an eyebrow, a curious smile on his face. “You look like you’re in middle school.”

Jisung snorted. Oh what he’d give to be back in middle school… “And so what? I mean, are you a middle-aged working man or something?” he asked sarcastically. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“First year of high school,” Minho said proudly, as if that elevated his status. And it did, because when Jisung was in  _ his _ first year of high school he’d felt invincible, like he’d taken the first crucial steps into adulthood. At least he knew now, adulthood was seriously overrated.

“I see your point,” Jisung huffed and shovelled down a forkful of cake. “But still, I’m not a kid.” He rolled his eyes at Minho who tried to stifle a laugh. “You know, this seems so real. It’s strange.”

Minho regarded him with a sly smile. “It  _ is _ strange. I mean, for one, everyone comes here straight after school, but you aren’t even in your uniform. What’s up with that?”

Jisung shrugged. “I don’t actually know,” he admitted. “I guess I skipped school today.” He used to skip school often. 

“Not a very nice thing to do,” Minho chided, but he kept his smile. “Which school do you go to?”

“Oh, um.” No way was he actually going to tell Minho he went to Hangdo Public School. Even in a dream, he wouldn’t embarrass himself that way. “Uh, gee, that’s a really nice scarf!”

Minho raised his eyebrows for a second, before nodding. “It’s one of my favourites. Belonged to my mother.”

“And she gave it to you?” he smiled gratefully at Minho who pushed the remaining piece of cake towards him. 

Turns out, it was Minho’s turn to dodge a question. “The cake’s good, huh? Have you had it before?”

Jisung didn’t mind that he hadn’t answered the question. They both had sensitive topics. It was nice that they were evened out that way. 

“It’s my first time here,” he explained. “I don’t get out much.”  _ Not in this part of town _ .

Minho looked surprised at this, but didn’t comment. He took a sip of his orange juice, pausing to look at Jisung. “You didn’t order anything to drink. You can have some of this or um, we can call someone –”

“I’m fine,” Jisung said quickly, amazed by Minho’s generosity. “Are you always like this?”

Minho set his glass down on the table, his smile fading into a frown. “I’m sorry if I –”

“No, no,” Jisung laughed. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I mean, you’re sharing cake and having a conversation with a stranger. It’s really nice of you.”

“Oh,” Minho looked relieved, a smile lighting up his face again. “I spend a lot of time alone,” he admitted. “I know people, but I’m not… I’m not for everyone, you know. I try to be nice and friendly, but I guess people find me a bit… different.”

“Different isn’t bad at all,” Jisung reassured him. “One day people will appreciate you for your differences.”

Minho chuckled. “You know, I’ve been told that before. So it must be true, right?”

“Of course,” Jisung huffed. “I give great advice.”

“Sure,” Minho shook his head, giving him a wry smile. “I’m sure you do.” He gulped down the remnants of his orange juice, and Jisung wondered with a pang whether his dream was about to end. He attempted to think of a way to prolong the conversation, but realized that Minho wasn’t smiling anymore. In fact, he looked positively mortified. With his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed, he stared out of the window on the far side of the diner.

Jisung followed his gaze, straining to see what he was looking at. A group of boys all dressed in a familiar maroon uniform – Brightstar High, Jisung recognized it – stood outside the window, pointing and laughing at something – or someone. At Minho, Jisung realized, clenching his fingers into fists. 

“Minho, who are they?”

Minho’s eyes flicked back to Jisung, his cheeks now a deep shade of red. He leaned forward, his voice low, “Do you see the one with his sleeves rolled up?” Jisung looked back and nodded. “He’s the one who stood me up.”

“Oh.”  _ Oh _ . Jisung stared back at the male who was laughing at something his friend said. He caught Jisung’s eye and he raised his eyebrows in amusement, a slight smirk on his face. 

“I guess he wasn’t just running late then,” Minho laughed, but Jisung could see the hurt in his glassy eyes, and the tremble in his voice made Jisung clench his fists tighter. Perhaps Jisung’s failure to respond, and the sympathy in his own eyes, made Minho add, “It’s okay though. I should’ve known it was a prank. I mean, he knew I had a crush on him and…” he trailed off, staring down at the table.

Jisung inwardly sighed, making a rash decision. “Hold on for a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” He ignored Minho’s protests as he slipped out of the booth. It was a dream, and anything was possible in a dream, even standing up to a bunch of murderous looking snobs. 

The group of boys were still outside the diner when Jisung stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Hey,” he approached them, hands in the pockets of his pinafore. Why had he ever thought this outfit would be cool? What had middle school Jisung been thinking?

They turned to look at him, amused sneers on their faces. Jisung knew their kind. Every thief spent time observing their target, and these were exactly the kind Jisung targeted. Young, rich, everything handed to them on a golden platter. Took life for granted, used curse words liberally because it was supposedly cool, but were really hollowed inside-out. 

“You hurt him, you know,” Jisung directed this at the one with rolled up sleeves. 

But the dark haired male just snorted out a laugh. “And who the fuck are you?” he studied Jisung’s outfit with disdain. He really was good-looking, so much so that it intimidated Jisung. 

Jisung stood his ground, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass Minho further. “You stood him up, you had your fun,” he shrugged. “Now go. You don’t have to make it worse for him.”

“Ooh, I think Minho finally found a boyfriend,” one of the other boys howled with laughter and they all joined in, like a pack of wolves.

And then Minho’s crush looked at Jisung with interest. “Which school do you even go to?” he narrowed his eyes. “You ever seen him before?” he asked his friends.

One of the boys stepped forward, eyeing Jisung speculatively. “You know what, I think I have!” 

_ Shit _ . 

“You’re that guy, aren’t you?” he took another step forward. It didn’t help that they all towered over Jisung. “Yeah, you’re the one who fucking stole my wallet last week!”

Jisung backed away.  _ Well… fuck. _

“You remember?” the boy turned to the rest of the group. “He snatched it while we were walking and ran off before we could get him.

Minho’s crush had a devilish smile on his face now. “Oh looks like we have him now.”

Jisung turned around when he heard the diner door swing open behind him. “Jisung,” Minho pursed his lips. “What are you doing? Let’s go back inside.”

“Hey Minho.”

Minho balked at being addressed by his crush, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck and onto his face. 

“Are you really dating a thief, Minho?”

Minho’s eyes flickered from Jisung to the other boy, his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, he’s a thief. Didn’t you know? He likes stealing wallets. Or is that what you like that about him, Minho?”

Jisung lowered his eyes, staring at his old sneaker-clad feet. He felt a hand wrap around his arm and looked up in surprise, staring into Minho’s firm gaze. “I said let’s go inside, Jisung.” Jisung looked back at the group of amused boys one more time before letting Minho lead him back into the diner, the pubescent wolf noises fading behind them.

They slid back into their booth. Jisung sat in silence, staring down at his hands, feeling prickly, knowing Minho was staring at him.

“I ordered more cake.” Jisung lifted his gaze just a fraction to see another slice of blueberry cheesecake and two glasses of orange juice.

“Jisung.”

“Yep?” He didn’t look up.

“Can you look at me?”

He bit his lip. “Why?”

“Is it true? About you stealing?”

He nodded, without looking up, afraid to see Minho’s reaction. Why was he so concerned about this conjured up person’s opinion of him?

“Do you do it for fun? Because you have nothing else to do?”

Jisung looked up this, both startled and offended by his question. “What? Minho, no. You think I get some kind of thrill out of it? I do it because I need to help pay for stuff at home! But you wouldn’t know that because you probably live in one of those mansions with a fancy car and a butler!” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.

If Minho was offended by Jisung’s outburst, he didn’t show it. “I do live in a mansion,” he nodded. “A few fancy cars too, yeah. Oh a butler too. And a nanny – bet you didn’t see that one coming. Sounds great, right?”

Jisung stared. “If you’re trying to tell me that it  _ isn’t _ great, I don’t believe you.” With the way he’d grown up, the way he lived, he’d take that mansion any day. It deeply offended him that Minho would be so unappreciative of it all. But weren’t all these rich kids like that? 

Minho’s lips had curved into a sad smile. “Let’s forget the last twenty minutes happened, okay? Have some cake, Jisung.”

Jisung speculated whether his dream would end if he said no. No, he didn’t want it to end – not just yet. He speared some cake into his mouth, risking a glance at Minho, and nearly choking when Minho caught his eye.

“I get what you were doing out there,” Minho said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Thank you.”

Jisung gulped down the piece of cake in his mouth. “No problem,” he shrugged. “I couldn’t just… ignore it.”

Minho’s smile was bashful, eyes flickering from Jisung to the table. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

Jisung observed him, wide eyes filled with adoration for the male opposite him, his annoyance long forgotten. “I’d do it again,” he admitted, feeling a pang of regret which faded into a strange,  _ futile _ sense of longing – a longing for this to be real. “I’d do it again, if this was real, if you were real, Minho.”

Minho tilted his head, peering at him from beneath his long eyelashes. “Is this not real to you, Jisung? None of this is real to you?”

Jisung offered him a rueful smile. “Oh, I wish it was. But I don’t know you, Minho. Soon, it’ll be as if we never met, as if these past few…” How long had they been here? “… hours never happened. And after this, when I look at you, all I’ll see is a face, because I never knew you, not really. You’re  _ here _ , but you don’t  _ exist _ .”

Minho sat back, an odd expression on his face, like Jisung was speaking a language he didn’t understand. “Jisung, you’re really not making any sense.”

“And it won’t make sense to  _ you _ ,” Jisung sighed. “You know, it’s like… It’s like I’ve been living in this closed up room my entire life, seeing the same thing, forced to do the same thing all day, all night, every single day, but all of a sudden the curtains were lifted. And just for a moment, I could get a glimpse of what’s out there. But the curtains are going to come back down any time soon now.” Any second now he was going to wake up in that hospital room and Minho’s still going to be in a coma and Jisung’s life is still going to be as dreary as it always was. Jisung wanted to be this kid, but in real life he was an adult with way too many problems and even more responsibilities.

Minho shook his head. “Jisung, no. Why are you saying all this? Look, just take my number. You can call me, alright? You can call and we – we can hang out again, right? We can do this again, right Jisung?”

He sounded desperate, almost frantic, and for a second Jisung believed him, until he saw a familiar person approaching them. He frowned, the pounding of his heart, and the smug smile on Changbin’s face – what was Changbin doing in his dream? – told him that his time was up. It was time to wake up. He knew it.

Changbin was dressed casually, a red t-shirt (to match the Valentine’s theme?) and black jeans. “Had fun, Jisung?” he asked, stopping at their table. “I’ll give you one more minute.”

“Uh,” Minho looked confused from Jisung to Changbin.

Jisung bit his lip and stood up. “Minho, I have to go.”

Minho was still adamant that they’d meet again, shaking his head and standing up with him. “Jisung, we can still –”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Minho,” Jisung smiled. “I know I wasn’t the date you expected, but –”

“Ten seconds,” Changbin interjected. 

“It was perfect,” Minho beamed at him. “But if you could just take my number –”

Changbin had a hand wrapped around Jisung’s wrist, already dragging him out of the booth. “Minho!” Jisung shouted over his shoulder, ignoring Changbin who’d steered him towards the diner door. “What’s your favourite colour?” A soft yellow light had begun to flow in from the gap under the door, and when Changbin wrenched the door open, he felt blinded, as though he’d come face to face with the sun.

And just as he was pushed through, he heard the faintest echo of “mint green”. 


	3. A Nag and a Nagging Feeling

Jisung stumbled through the doorway, shielding his eyes from the bright light, screaming when the ground gave way beneath him. He scrambled for a grip on something, anything, as he felt himself falling. Down he went, down, down, down, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look at the depths that were claiming him.

And he landed with a soft thud, yelping as his nose touched the white tiles beneath him. He lifted his head, blinking, met with the familiar sight of the circular hospital room. Now upright, he shifted so his legs splayed out in front of him.

The back of his hand collided with something rough and he flinched, sighing in relief when it was only the wicker chair –  _ the wicker chair he’d been sitting in _ . So that’s what had happened! He’d been  _ dreaming _ and then he just fell out of the chair! It made sense.  _ Right _ ?

Jisung pulled himself to his feet, standing over the bed where John Doe rested, his chest rising and falling with the steady beep of the machine monitoring him.  _ Minho _ . He shook his head. No, he’s just John Doe. That had been a dream. Minho had been a dream. He glanced around the room, frowning at all the empty beds. So the other guy,  _ Changbin _ , had also been part of the dream. And so had the tapestry – because the walls were just as Jisung remembered them when he’d first walked in – void of décor. 

He plopped down into the wicker chair again, pulling out his phone to check the time. And holy shit! It was just past eight! He’d been asleep for over two hours! Although, he did feel more tired than he’d been two hours ago…

“Jisung?”

He whipped around to find the doctor, Felix, poking his head around the corner of the doorway. “You can leave now,” Felix gave him a small smile.

Jisung stretched his arms, body still aching from his fall. He gave Mi –  _ John Doe _ – one last glance. “Sleep well,” he muttered softly so that only he could hear.

The night’s sky was a pretty, dark blue, blended with a slight gray haze from the chimneys of whichever workshops were in production at this part of the night. A few stars twinkled through the haze above him as he found his usual route. He wondered whether the man currently in a deep sleep at Yellow Wood Hospital would ever see the sky again. He shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a hospital bed, trapped inside his own mind for the rest of his life.  _ How awful… _

His thoughts were interrupted by an  _ insistent _ purring. Searching his surroundings for the source, he almost tripped over his own feet when he saw the black cat at his side. “What the…” It stared up at him with those defiant yellow eyes, as though daring him to shoo it away, which was what he was about to do. 

Now, there were no dearth of stray cats in this town, but a strange feeling in Jisung’s gut told him that this was the very same cat from inside the hospital. It was a mystery why it had decided to follow him. “I don’t have food,” he huffed, stepping around the cat and continuing down the side walk. To his annoyance, the cat followed, weaving in and out between his legs, keeping close lest it lose sight of him.

When he reached Chan’s shop, the cat stood patiently at the entrance. Jisung scowled. “I don’t know how Chan feels about cats, but okay.”

Chan had his eyes glued to a computer screen, and only gave him a slight noise of acknowledgement when he entered the dim room. “Anything?” he asked after Jisung had seated himself on the table next to him. He knew Chan would be miffed that he was empty handed, but he also knew that he’d give him another chance. Jisung always paid his debts. An honourable thief – that’s what he was.

“Nope,” Jisung admitted. “But I –”

“You’ll get something,” Chan nodded, lips curving into a wry smile. “I know.” His eyes widened when he saw the cat sitting beside Jisung, as still as a statue. “You have a pet?”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “You really think I’m in any kind of situation to adopt a cat?” The cat gave him what would be considered a sly look. “It just… followed me,” he shrugged.

Chan made a small noise, covering his mouth to hide his amusement. “It must find your company interesting.”

He threw an old pen at Chan, the other chuckling as he parried. “Anything to eat?”

“For you or the cat?”

“Me,” Jisung said at the same time the cat purred. He shot the nuisance a cagey look. 

Chan laughed and pushed a half empty takeaway container towards him. “Thai,” he said in explanation.

Jisung was about to shovel some of the rice into his mouth when he felt something sharp snag onto his shirt. “Ouch!” he yelped at the burning sensation on his arm. The cat gave him a smug look, withdrawing its claws. Jisung rolled his eyes in response, but spooned some of the food onto a napkin, staring slack-jawed when the cat bypassed the napkin and began to eat out of the container. It gave Jisung a snooty look as if to ask, ‘why don’t  _ you _ eat out of a napkin?’

Surreptitiously, he used a fork to create an imaginary line, dividing the food into two halves. But no sooner than he’d eaten his first mouthful, did his stomach begin to twist itself into knots. He had  _ that feeling _ – that feeling you get when you think you’ve left the stove on or forgotten your keys. It tugged at him from the inside, his appetite being replaced with nausea. 

“Hey, Chan?”

“Mm?” Chan didn’t look away from his computer.

“I don’t have any data on my phone.”

“So?” Chan raised an eyebrow.

“I need to uh, do a google search.”

“For what?” Chan swivelled around to stare at him now.

“Nothing,” Jisung said quickly, shaking his head. He was being stupid.  _ Really stupid _ . How could he even think information from a dream would be reliable? Chan would laugh in his face if he told him. “It’s nothing,” he repeated, more to himself than Chan. But his stomach didn’t seem satisfied with that response. It knotted and unravelled itself, only to clench tighter, like an invisible cord strangling him from within. “God…” he gasped.

“Jisung!” Chan looked at him in concern, half out of his seat. “Are – Are you sick?”

Jisung pressed a hand against his belly and cleared his throat, wondering how to explain, or if he should at all. “A missing person. Please. Search,” he managed through the undulating nausea and cramping pain.

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Someone you know?”

“Uh…” Jisung bit his lip, hand pressed over his stomach. “Can you just search for the name, Lee Minho?”

Chan stared before huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “Do you have any idea how common that name is? There’ll be hundreds…”

“Please,” Jisung tried to keeping the desperation to a minimum. “Just search. Once. See if there’s been anything in the news.”

“Fine,” Chan shrugged. “Give me a minute.”

Jisung surrendered the food to the cat and took a seat at Chan’s side. “Anything?”

Chan bit his lip. “Too many people named Lee Minho. But as far as I can see, none are reported missing.”

“Okay then…” Jisung sighed. At least he’d tried. 

“Do you know anything else about this Lee Minho?” Chan asked, still scrolling down the search results. 

Jisung shrugged. He knew  _ nothing _ about this dream Minho – not his address, not his phone number, not… His school! Jisung knew the name of his school! “He went to Brightstar High!”

Chan lifted a brow but said nothing as he typed this new information into the search bar. “Well,” he hummed, “I doubt he’s ever participated in any school tournaments or anything, because there’s not a shred of information about him.”

Jisung frowned. Yeah, either that, or he doesn’t exist at all. Jisung wavered towards the latter. “At least I tried,” he whispered to himself. He patted his stomach as if to ask if it was satisfied with his attempt, and to his amazement, it uncoiled, the pain and nausea relenting. His appetite returning, he glanced into the takeaway container, where sure enough only a few grains of rice remained. He glowered at the cat who looked at him innocently as it stretched, arching its agile body. “I’ll get going,” Jisung murmured. “Are you by any chance looking to adopt a cat –” But said cat was already standing in the doorway, looking at Jisung expectantly. “Nevermind.”

He said goodbye to Chan and promised to nick something valuable soon. Right now, he just wanted to find somewhere to rest. He usually just slept at the bus station or subway. Anywhere that would shelter him for the night, and when it wasn’t raining he really didn’t mind just going to the park and sleeping under the stars. When he needed to shower and get a change of clothes, Seungmin usually snuck him inside, but otherwise, Jisung was pretty much on his own. He wasn’t  _ homeless _ ; the world was his home, and as long as he was still in it, he was home. 

He wondered what his new feline companion would think of that. “Where do  _ you _ sleep?” he asked it as it pranced alongside him, unnaturally energetic. It only purred in response, running ahead as if it knew where he was going.

And where was he going?

Jisung stopped in his tracks, blinking. When had he taken  _ that _ turn? He was now on Jujang Street. It had been a long while since he’d come up this way. He’d long ago given up stealing from high school students – even they had become too vigilant. He could see that the street was still occupied by rich kids – college students frequenting the bars that popped up along the street in recent times.

He was startled from his thoughts by an incredibly loud purr from the black cat which now stood a few feet ahead, staring impatiently at Jisung. “What?” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m tired. I want to sleep. And there is absolutely nothing for me to do on this street.”

He spun around but the cat shot in front of him at lightning speed, hissing and baring its teeth. Taken aback, Jisung tried to step around it, but it was there in an instant, advancing upon him, claws shining in the darkness. 

“What the hell…” He bit his lip and looked over his shoulder. “You… You want me to walk down the street, don’t you?” He ignored the small voice that called him silly for trying to reason with a cat.

But the cat hissed in response, stopping its advance and… waiting. For the first time, Jisung noticed just how  _ unnaturally _ yellow its eyes were. They almost seemed to glow like two spheres of light.

He bit his lip and sighed in defeat. “Okay.”

He turned on his heel and took cautious steps down the street, the cat now regaining its jovial disposition and trotting at his side. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but kept going.

Perhaps he’d known where he was heading before the cat pawed at the door. Perhaps he’d known the moment he realized he was on Jujang Street. It was as though some kind of hook had lodged itself in the centre of his chest, pulling him forward until he stood in front of the diner.  _ Mimi’s Dazzling Diner _ . But it wasn’t so dazzling anymore. Through the dust covered windows he could see the cobwebs covering every surface, the chairs and tables pushed back against the walls, the leather-covered booths torn and dirty. 

_ What am I doing here? _ Jisung wondered, even as he turned the door handle, expecting it to be locked, and gasping when it swung open easily. He let the cat lead the way inside, and he followed, albeit with less enthusiasm as the feline. A shiver went up his spine as he took in the ruin-like appearance of the diner. In his dream everything had looked bright and shiny, but now looked like a dusty picture of the past. He turned on the spot, looking for something, anything – he didn’t know  _ what _ exactly. 

The cat had placed itself on the grimy counter, yellow eyes watching Jisung’s every movement. “You’re not going to help me, are you?” he scowled.

Of course it wasn’t going to. Hands in his pockets, he peered around at the booths, at the tables haphazardly pushed back, the small kitchen and –  _ oh _ – a storeroom. The door was slightly ajar, creaking when he pushed it open. He steeled himself to jump out of the way of any mice or whatever other critters might be lying in wait.

But nothing moved and there were no squeaky sounds. The storeroom was lined with shelves, and on the shelves sat cardboard boxes of various sizes. Like everything else, they were covered in dust, but the streetlight shimmering from outside illuminated them enough to allow Jisung to read the labels.

_ Birthday décor, wedding party décor, Halloween décor _ … 

The boxes all held décor for the various themes and holidays the diner had celebrated. Jisung was about to leave the storeroom when he saw it.

_ Valentine’s Day décor. _

He sucked in a breath. It wasn’t unusual. Of course, they’d have a Valentine’s theme. Didn’t most restaurants on Valentine’s Day? It was to be expected. But he lifted the flaps of the box, his heart racing.  __

_ Red table coverings, red napkins, red cutlery. _

He stared at the items, trying to convince himself that every restaurant had probably bought the same red items, and that this was just some weird coincidence, but the feeling that stirred in his gut told him otherwise. 

He could see it as clear as day – the red table coverings embroidered with roses, the spiral design on the red plates, the hearts printed onto the red forks. In his dream, he’d barely taken note of those things, but looking back on it – as though it was a  _ memory _ – he could see it all clearly. 

“How…?” he asked himself, still trying to reason with his inner skeptic. “How could this all be anything more than a coincidence?”

The possibility that his dream hadn’t really been a dream, didn’t sit well with him. These kinds of things just didn’t happen. Jisung had seen too much of what the real world was like. He’d lived through the harsh realities of life without an ounce of anything supernatural, anything  _ magical _ , making an appearance. Believing in magic was a luxury for those rich kids who lived in mansions and had bedtime stories read to them every night. 

Jisung didn’t  _ want _ to believe in magic. Just the thought of it existing made him angry. How could something magical, something that could do so much good, exist out there while his family had been suffering for so long? What  _ right _ did it have to exist, ignoring the plight of those who were in need of it?

No, if it really was real – if there really was something magical out there – it couldn’t be good, not if it had left his family to suffer. So Jisung didn’t want any part of it.

He moved a few boxes aside, plopping himself down in the corner of the storeroom. This would be an alright place to settle down for the night. 

“What?” he snapped at the cat which stood in the doorway. “You know what this all is, right? You know exactly what’s happening,” he narrowed his eyes. “You’re a  _ part _ of it.”

The cat approached him warily, paws padding along the wooden floor until it reached him. As if it was a completely normal occurrence, it curled up at his feet. And Jisung could’ve sworn its bright eyes held an apology.

Jisung sighed. “I know I’m being bitter,” he murmured. “But it’s hard to believe in something good when you’ve seen so much bad. And what would even be the point of a  _ little _ bit of good in a world so bad? What difference does it make?”

The cat looked at him intently, listening. Jisung stared back, entranced by the two yellow orbs.  _ Yellow… Yellow Wood.  _

He knew that if he wanted to know more, if he wanted to give in to his intrigue, the only place that would have any answers would be the hospital. But the thought of stepping back into that hospital, facing whatever it threw at him, believing in something beyond his reality, was daunting.

Even as he told himself he’d fight tooth and nail to prevent himself from being forced back into that hospital, he could feel that hook catch hold of him again, lodged into his chest, tugging, reminding him of its existence, telling him that whether he wanted to or not, his feet would take him nowhere else except Yellow Wood. 

Even when he woke, Jisung refused to open his eyes. Before he did, he wanted to make a silent wish that the past twenty four hours never happened. He’d never been to that strange hospital. He’d never seen the beautiful coma patient. He’d never had any strange dreams. When he opened his eyes, he told himself, all of it would be locked in a compartment in his brain, and he’d be sure to lose the key. He didn’t care what Johyuk did, he wasn’t stepping foot into that hospital again.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Immediately, he began to sneeze after inhaling a cloud of dust. He groaned in annoyance, and sat up. He checked his phone, but lo and behold – he’d forgotten to charge it at Chan’s shop. 

Making his way out of the store room, he could see the glow of the sun beginning to turn the dark sky orange. Sunrise. He hadn’t woken too late. 

He was about to leave the diner, when he remembered he hadn’t come in alone. But surely the nagging cat would have heard him moving around? He called softly, checking under the tables and inside the cupboards. But his feline companion had deserted him. He furrowed his brows at the door. Unless the cat had suddenly grown hands… He shook his head. It probably found an open window or something.

It didn’t take him long to make his way out of Jujang Street. It was deserted, the college students that hung out at the bars probably passed out someplace. Jisung wouldn’t know. College had never been on the cards for him.

He felt a little more relaxed once he was in familiar territory. While Jujang Street had still been asleep, this part of town – Jisung’s part of town – was beginning to wake. Vendors and hawkers were setting up their stalls on the streets, all hoping to be set in time for the early morning commuters. 

One of the street-sellers had put up a cart, boasting several pastries of all shapes and sizes – pies, tarts, bagels... The delicious aromas of meat and vegetables and cheese and all the other tasty fillings, wafted up to Jisung’s nostrils and he inhaled, his mouth watering at the sight. But his pockets were empty, and breakfast had always been nothing more than a rare indulgence for him.

He tore his gaze away, continuing his stride down the street. A group of construction workers all dressed in blue uniforms streamed passed him, several of them yawning, and others bearing grumpy expressions on their tired faces. 

Jisung averted his sympathetic gaze, but gasped in surprise when he felt something collide with his chest. He scrambled to catch the object and when he did, he frowned. A paper bag. The delicious smell already being emitted told him what was inside before he even peeked. Two golden bagels stared up at him and his stomach growled in response.

“But…” He looked back at the group of construction workers who were several feet away now.  _ Had one of them…? But why? _

He blinked, squinting at the group. Almost like a shadow, a figure dressed in black was darting between the workers, and in a blink, had disappeared from view. Jisung stared slack-jawed. Had some random stranger just given him breakfast?  _ What in the world…? _

He shrugged, and immediately (because they were too good to ignore) took a bite out of one of the bagels.  _ Cream cheese _ . Jisung felt as though he was on cloud nine, and he had a bounce in his step as he continued on his way. As an afterthought, he paused and glanced back at the pastry vendor. To his amazement, and pure disbelief, there was an empty space on the cart where two bagels should have been. 

He reached his h – his  _ parents’ _ house – in a daze, and of course, after wolfing down the rest of the bagel. He walked across the yard, and softly tapped on Seungmin’s window.

“Hey Ji,” Seungmin grinned, opening the window for him to climb through. “They just left. I wasn’t in the shower too long so the water should still be hot.”

Jisung shook off his daze, and gave Seungmin a hug before handing him the bag. “Bagel,” he said in explanation, smiling at the way Seungmin’s eyes lit up.

After he’d showered and changed into clean clothes (Seungmin was kind enough to hide Jisung’s clothes at the back of his closet) Jisung plopped down onto the bed beside his brother, plugging a charger into his phone. “Was it good?” he asked, chuckling as Seungmin licked his fingers.

“So good!” Seungmin nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks, Ji. And,” he held up the paper bag, “this logo is so cute. Where’d you buy the bagels from?”

Jisung looked up from his phone, eyes flickering to the bag. He sucked in a breath and gawked. “I…” The ‘cute’ logo that Seungmin was raving about was a picture of a black cat, its eyes a familiar unnatural yellow colour.  _ Yellow… Yellow Wood _ . There it was again. That tug in his chest, a call only he could hear, a pull only he could feel. He glanced at his phone. It was 6:50. He had more than enough time to get to Yellow Wood to be on time for his… job? Community service? Dreaming? Whatever it was, he was going. He had to.

He didn’t need to remember the way; he didn’t need to recall directions because it was as though the way to Yellow Wood had been programmed into his brain so that his feet automatically moved in the direction of the hospital. 

Standing outside the double doors, he heaved a sigh before starting up the stairs.

He’d forgotten how much like an old church the lobby looked. A shiver immediately went down his spine as he stepped inside. Once more, the colourful stained glass with its angel fresco caught his eye. And now, without Johyuk there breathing down his neck, he could take his time to  _ really _ study it.

Jisung hadn’t really been one for art appreciation, but there was something so stunning, so breathtaking about these murals that he couldn’t help the wonder and veneration that he felt for them.

“They tell a story, you know.”

Jisung startled, flushing when he realized that the old receptionist was staring at him from her desk. Did he look like a creep staring at the hospital walls? But then he recalled her words.  _ A story. _ “What story?”

She stood up from her desk, and walked, rather slowly, towards him. She was small, her grey hair brushed back into a neat bun. Her twinkling hazel eyes were filled with kindness that made Jisung feel at ease, and her smile widened as she stood at his side. “Not  _ what _ story,” she corrected, “ _ Whose _ story.”

Jisung’s eyes flickered to the fresco and back to the old woman. When it became apparent that he had to prompt her to continue, he asked, “ _ Whose _ story?”

“Well,” she waved her hand, gesturing to their surroundings, “I suppose, the story of everyone who comes into Yellow Wood needing to be healed.”

Again, Jisung had to probe for more. “Um… What exactly does that mean?” he scratched the back of his neck, not entirely sure why he was staring at a hospital window and having a conversation with an old lady.

“You see, this,” she gestured to the silhouette of an angel in front of a yellow background, “is the healer, and,” she pointed now at the figure standing before the angel, “is the healed.” 

Jisung furrowed his brows, not exactly seeing the story. “Oh?”

“They’re in the Yellow Wood,” she clicked her tongue, and Jisung thought she sounded a bit exasperated. “And do you see behind the person?”

Jisung looked closely and nodded. “Pathways? Different roads? But they all kind of…”

“All roads lead to the healing road,” the woman explained with a smile. “You see, no matter which road you’ve taken, when you come to Yellow Wood…”

“You’ll find healing,” Jisung murmured, finally understanding. 

“Jisung!” the deep voice bellowed from across the lobby, and he knew immediately that it belonged to the doctor. The old woman reached up to give his shoulder a pat and made her way back to the reception desk.

“Jisung,” Felix said again, with a smile. “It’s good to see you on time! Come,” he beckoned to the elevator. “I have a patient to tend to on the third floor,” he explained as they stepped into the elevator. “But you can go straight to John Doe’s room on the fifth. I’ve already taken his vitals so I’ll make my rounds before I see you a bit later.”

Jisung nodded, giving the bubbly doctor an awkward smile. He’d always thought of doctors as being stern and unfriendly. But Felix was so different. He kind of suited the strange atmosphere of Yellow Wood.

“Felix,” he glanced at the doctor, “how’d you get a job here? At Yellow Wood, I mean…”

Felix hummed, tapping his clipboard. “It’s a bit strange really,” he laughed. “I was feeling a bit burnt out at the other hospital. The other doctors used to say that I’m not cut out for this job. They said I’m too happy, too optimistic, too sensitive, and I’d actually started to think I wasn’t made for this career. But then I got an email, asking if I was interested in a position here at Yellow Wood. I didn’t even know this place existed. But I took a chance. And… I guess I found a kind of safe haven here. It made me realize that maybe this is the road I was meant to walk. I’ve actually  _ never _ felt this confident about my skills before! This place did wonders for me.”

Jisung looked at him wide eyed and perhaps Felix thought he’d been oversharing because he gave Jisung a shy smile and mumbled something about talking too much. But all the while, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking,  _ all roads lead to the healing road _ . Had Felix also found healing here? Was that more than just a story?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Felix waved at Jisung as he stepped out, and Jisung waited for the doors to close. He was going to see  _ him _ again. He tried not to think how absurd he was for being excited to see a coma patient. He just couldn’t help feeling jittery, his heart racing as the elevator began to move.  _ Almost there _ .

He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, and… The elevator stopped. Jisung blinked, at the number 5 flashing at the top, but the whirring of the elevator motor could no longer be heard. There was just… silence. 

And then everything went dark.

Panic set in and with the lights out, all Jisung could do was tap frantically on all the buttons, hoping one of them would be an emergency button. When light began streaming in from under the elevator he heaved a sigh of relief. It was just a technical problem and someone was probably already working on it.

But then the light began to get brighter – so bright that he had to shield his eyes. The elevator doors began to slide open, and all Jisung could see was bright  _ yellow _ light. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves, like whispers calling to him.

He hesitated only for a moment before stepping into the light. 


	4. The Accidental Gate-crasher

When he opened his eyes, he had to blink several times, having to adjust to the dim lighting.  _ Night _ , he realized. The sky was black save for the twinkling of a few well-spaced stars. He felt something soft and cushiony below his feet –  _ bare _ feet – and realized that he was standing on soft grass in someone’s garden, or rather, the periphery of the garden.

Behind him was a large stone wall that he could see traveling around the property. In front of him were several bushes, all shaped to look like animals. He marvelled at the outlines of cats, rabbits and horses, only just noticing the sound of violins, the buzz of conversation, and sparkling lights drifting through the bushes.

He peered around from behind a rabbit-shaped bush, gasping at the crowd of people on the lawn. It appeared to be some kind of evening garden party – a sophisticated one, judging from the small orchestra seated on a podium, and the array of dazzling suits and gowns.

It made him check his own attire, and he groaned in disgust. While it was a relief that he wasn’t sporting breeches this time round, these pajamas were certainly not going to win him any fashion awards. The plaid blue and white pants weren’t that bad, but once you saw the shirt… It was a matching blue button down shirt, the material soft against his skin. Embroidered all over were smiling sheep, tufts of puffy grey wool sewed on, making his shirt look like one of those pop-up picture storybooks Seungmin had long ago. 

Oh, he remembered now! These had been Jisung’s favourite set of pajamas – a gift hand-sewn by his mother at the beginning of his penultimate year of middle school. He’d shared them with Seungmin, but by the end of the year they’d both outgrown the set.

Wait, if this was his penultimate year of middle school, it meant that he still had the – he ran his tongue over his teeth –  _ braces _ . He ran his fingers through his hair – short, barely brushing his ears; that at least, was less embarrassing. 

He noticed a blotchy red stain on one of his sleeves which would have alarmed him if it didn’t smell like fresh pasta sauce. It was almost like he’d just eaten dinner and been whisked here into this party. 

His fashion evaluation interrupted, Jisung frowned when he heard childish squeals, and the undeniable sounds of children’s laughter, wild and carefree. He spotted the source, located on the far side of the lawn, and he gaped. The colourful jumping castle was so out of place at this kind of party that Jisung in his sheep-covered pajamas would have fit in better than it did. Children bounced up and down on the plastic surface, not showing any concern for the state of their formal attire.

His eyes drifted across the lawn to the hotel where several people could be seen flitting in and out of the double doors. And when he saw a figure coming around the side of the building and heading for –  _ heading for exactly where he was _ , he scrambled back, but was met with the stone wall and nowhere to hide. He hoped it would be enough to blend into the shadows.

He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid of getting caught and kicked out of a party he wasn’t invited to anyway. Or maybe he did know why. He thought he’d be seeing  _ him _ again.  _ Minho _ . Jisung had been so sure when he stepped into the yellow light that it would take him to see Minho, but this was a complete waste. Maybe he was dreaming after all.

“Hey, who’s there?”

Jisung clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stay hidden in the shadows. 

“I – I know someone is there. I saw you peeking around the bushes a moment ago.”

The voice – a male – sounded hesitant, nervous, almost like he was the one intruding and not Jisung.

“Do you, um… I mean, do you need help with something? Are you okay?”

_ Oh _ . He was concerned. Maybe Jisung should just fess up to accidentally intruding on their party. But he didn’t have time to do that.

A face peered at him from around the rabbit, and he stumbled back in surprise, tripping over his own feet, and landing rather painfully on his bottom. “Ouch,” he murmured. 

He heard a chuckle, and when the male lifted an oil lamp, Jisung’s heart did a few joyful somersaults. “Minho,” he gasped, smiling as the light illuminated the male’s face.

He’d changed a bit, Jisung noticed. His cheeks had lost a little bit of their chubbiness – just a  _ little _ , but enough to be noticed anyway. His jaw was sharper, and he wore grey lenses, so that when the light caught on them, his eyes looked silver. Like the other partygoers he was dressed in a suit. It was well-fitted and navy blue, with a floral design on the cuffs and lapel, and the crystal buttons added just enough sparkle to create a shimmering effect whenever he moved. Jisung brought his gaze back up to Minho’s face noting now, that Minho was in fact, angry.  _ Oh dear _ . “Uh…”

“ _ You _ ,” Minho pursed his lips together. “Han Jisung.” Even though he remembered Jisung, he obviously wasn’t pleased to see him. Jisung felt his heart sink, the somersaults it had been doing, now dying down to nervous butterflies that fluttered down to the pit of his stomach.

“What are you doing here?” Minho demanded, his arms folded. “You just ran off from the diner all those months ago without even bothering to give me any means of contacting you, and now you sneak into this party, for what exactly?”

“Oh.”  _ Oh _ . Jisung saw it now. He wasn’t unhappy to see Jisung. He was unhappy that Jisung had left him at the diner. Butterflies took flight in his stomach once more. Minho had wanted to see him!

“Oh?” Minho looked at him incredulously. “That’s what you have to say for yourself? I went back to the diner every single day for six months, hoping you would be there, Jisung!”

Every day for six months? Jisung was stunned. Minho had wanted to see him that badly…

“Oh, Minho,” Jisung pulled himself to his feet. He gave the brunette an apologetic smile. “If I could’ve gone back, I really would have.” He knew better than to explain to Minho that he travelled back in time through a magical hospital. Minho would probably kick him out right there and then. “I just…” he sighed. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but please, trust me. There was no way for me to come back.”

Minho’s expression softened. “Are… Are your parents strict or something?”

Jisung scratched the back of his head. It would be easier to just say yes and go along with that, but he found himself unable to lie to Minho. “It’s not that,” he shook his head. “It’s just that… Well…I can’t tell you exactly what it is, but there’s something that stops me from just – from just coming to you. I can’t go wherever I want to.”  _ I can’t travel back in time whenever I want to is more like it. _

Minho didn’t look pleased. He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, Jisung. And it sounds like a lie.”

Jisung refrained from huffing out a laugh. If Minho thought  _ that _ sounded ridiculous, what would he say about the magical hospital, which just happened to be the truth? “Look,” Jisung bit his lip, “I really wanted to come back to you. I wanted to spend more time with you. But I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. And that’s all I can tell you. If it’s not enough for you, and you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

He looked away from Minho, waiting for the male to tell him to leave. He only looked up when he heard a shuffling sound, and he furrowed his brows, watching as Minho approached the wall behind them. He slipped off his suit jacket, laying it on the ground, and plopping down on top of it. He looked up at Jisung expectantly, flourishing his hand to indicate the space next to him.

“Ah,” Jisung’s eyes lit up, and his cheeks burned as he bounded towards Minho like a lost puppy. 

Should anyone look in their direction, they’d be well-hidden now. Even the voices and the music sounded muffled. But Jisung was sure that even Minho could hear the sound of his heart beating against his chest.

“So,” Minho cleared his throat, “how have you been?” His words sounded, stiff, forced. He was still angry. And Jisung understood. If he’d been in Minho’s position he would have been too. 

“Minho,” Jisung leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes, knowing he was about to be the most honest he’d ever been in his entire life. “When we met at that diner, it was like… It was like we connected somehow. And when I left, it was like that connection remained,  _ here _ ,” he placed a hand over his heart. “And when I’m not with you, I feel it. I feel that connection strain like a – a piece of string being tugged from the other side, always reminding me of this distance that I have to somehow close, somehow cross, to get to you.” 

His hand still over his heart, he refused to look at Minho, lest the embarrassment of his confession make him burst into tears. “And I’m afraid, Minho. I’m afraid that at any given moment, even though I don’t want to, I’m going to be forced to leave you again. So please,  _ please _ , and I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, can we make the best of the time we have? No formal, meaningless small-talk, no annoyed, angry glances – nothing that we’ll regret when we’re apart again.”

He was surprised when he felt his hand being pried away from his chest, and watched as Minho boldly linked their fingers together. His lips quirked up into a small smile and he glanced at Jisung mischievously. “You won’t regret  _ this _ , will you?”

Jisung knew that even the dim light from the oil lamp beside them would not be able to hide the blush that spread over his cheeks. “No,” he managed. “I won’t.”

Minho chuckled. “I certainly hope so, kid.” He placed their linked hands on his lap.

“I’m  _ not _ a kid,” Jisung whined, until he realized just how childish that sounded.

“Yeah, right,” Minho smirked. “You’re as much a kid as you were when I met you nine months ago.”

_ Nine months? _ Jisung raised his eyebrows, mentally counting. If they’d been in February then, it would have to be November now. He was jolted from his thoughts by a few childish screeches. “Whoa,” he laughed. “At least the kids are having a great time. What kind of party is this anyway?”

“Why?” Minho pressed his lips together as if he were trying to hold back his laughter. “Are you trying to figure out whether you fit the dress code? It’s definitely not a slumber party.”

Jisung scowled, and Minho couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore, letting out a loud guffaw that made Jisung join in. “Hey,” Jisung tried to defend his honor. “These pajamas are high fashion where I’m from. They’re trendy.”

“Uh huh,” Minho wiped the tears from his eyes, recovering from his bout of laughter. “This party…” he grew serious. “It’s my dad and step-mom’s two year anniversary.”  _ Step-mom _ . Jisung remembered Minho wearing his mother’s scarf at the diner, and how hesitant he’d been to talk about it. He wondered… “My mom died three years ago,” Minho explained with a slight tremble in his voice, and Jisung’s grip on his hand tightened, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. “She was sick.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jisung whispered. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a parent. 

“It’s okay,” Minho sighed. “I just… I didn’t expect my dad to move on so fast, you know. And I want to hate her, my step-mom, Haru. But she lost her previous husband the same way, and I guess she understands what my dad went through. And she’s… Well, as much as I try to hate her, she’s  _ nice _ . It’s a bit frustrating.”

“Can I say something?” Jisung glanced at him, afraid of overstepping boundaries. He didn’t want to upset Minho.

“You can.”

“It’s not my place to say, but… maybe… don’t  _ try _ to hate her. But you don’t have to try to like her either. Sometimes it’s best to just leave things as they are. Sometimes they sort themselves out on their own.” He looked at Minho, afraid that he was out of line, but Minho was silent, contemplative.

“I could try that,” he finally admitted with a bland chuckle. “Try not to try.” Jisung was relieved when Minho smiled at him. 

“So what about that jumping castle?” Jisung asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that normal for anniversary parties?”

Minho snorted. “No, it isn’t. But  _ Jeongin _ always gets what  _ Jeongin _ wants.”

“Jeongin?” Jisung tilted his head, wracking his brain to recall whether Minho had ever mentioned a Jeongin. He hadn’t.

“Step-brother,” Minho shrugged, his smile fading. “My father jumps through hoops to make sure that Jeongin is always happy. He really wants Jeongin to think of him as a second dad, you know, so he spoils him a lot. And the brat always takes full advantage of the situation too.”

“You don’t sound too fond of him,” Jisung admitted.

Minho huffed. “I’m not. He’s a brat and he’s always getting into trouble.”

“I have a brother too,” Jisung told him, and Minho looked at him in wonder. “His name is Seungmin. He’s adopted.”

“Oh,” Minho perked up at this. “You don’t get along too?”

Jisung had to laugh at how eager Minho was for him to not get along with Seungmin. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he smiled. “But Seungmin is amazing.”

Minho let out another huff. “Disappointing.” 

“My mother used to…” and he reddened a bit at this, “… work at a church as a cleaner. I was too young to be left at home by myself so I always went with. I was playing in the aisles, running up and down between the pews, and I heard him. He was tied to a pew by a piece of rope, so he couldn’t run away, couldn’t follow his mother after she abandoned him.”

Minho clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Jisung, that’s horrible…”

Jisung nodded. “I untied him and took him to my mother. He’s been with us ever since.”

“That’s – that’s –” Minho looked at Jisung with a mixture of sadness and adoration. And then he jumped up onto his feet, startling Jisung.

“What is it?” Jisung’s eyes darted around, trying to see whether they’d been found out. 

“I left my phone in the kitchen,” Minho grumbled, dusting his hands. “I’ll be back in like two minutes!”

Jisung frowned. “In the hotel kitchen?”

Minho looked taken aback. “What hotel?” he looked over his shoulder and then back at Jisung. “That’s… That’s my house.” 

“Right. Of course,” Jisung nodded stupidly. “Of course that’s your house.”

Minho gave him a strange look before reassuring him that he’d back soon and heading out towards the… house. Jisung crawled forward, gaping at the mansion from under the rabbit’s paw. He figured Minho was rich, but this was totally unexpected.

Unbidden, images of valuable jewels and ornaments entered his mind and he tried to wash them away. He would not be stealing from Minho.  _ Would he? _ He furrowed his brows, trying to reason with himself. It was absurd even thinking of doing such. He was here for Minho. He was here to talk to Minho, to spend time with him, not rob him of his possessions. 

But he probably had so much, would he even notice if something went amiss? No, that didn’t matter. The act of it – the act of stealing from Minho was preposterous, completely out of the question. 

_ Was it though? _

He blinked and already he could see Minho trudging back towards him with a nervous smile and a… plate?

“Hey,” Minho settled down back beside him and grinned apologetically. “I didn’t take too long, did I?”

“Not at all,” Jisung smiled. _ Just long enough for villainous thoughts to enter my mind… _

“I’m actually kind of hungry,” Minho admitted, and looked away shyly, as though being hungry was something to be ashamed of. 

Jisung’s philosophy was that if you can afford it, you should eat it. Actually, that was half of the philosophy. The other half was that if you couldn’t afford it, you should steal it. He wasn’t about to tell Minho that though.

“You should eat then,” Jisung shrugged nonchalantly, eyes drifting down towards the cookies on the plate. They were star-shaped, an almond pressed into each point of the star. They looked like a fancier version of the cookies his mother made – used to make. He doubted she still made them. Flour was expensive.

“Thanks,” Minho murmured, and Jisung wondered why he was being thanked for encouraging him to eat. “Try one,” he held up a cookie.

Jisung reached for it but Minho pulled back his hand, a somewhat mischievous yet hopeful look in his eyes.

_ Ah _ .

Jisung could feel his cheeks begin to burn as he opened his mouth and Minho brought the cookie up to his lips. He tried to focus less on Minho’s bright eyes – as shadowy as the night’s sky, twinkling with a million stars – and more on the crumbly, warm, buttery goodness that worked on his taste buds. “Mm, wow,” he licked his lips. “This is really –”

“Good, right?” Minho wiggled his shoulders excitedly as he popped the other half of the cookie into his own mouth. “They’re my favourite,” he said as he munched it down. 

“They actually taste a lot like my mom’s,” Jisung admitted. “I kind of miss them.” He missed everything about his mom, not just her cooking. He wondered whether she missed him too. Maybe she did. Maybe she missed the little kid who hadn’t yet learned how to steal, how to provide for his family in the only way he now knew. That kid was long gone.

“She doesn’t make them anymore?” Minho’s gaze was soft yet curious.

Jisung shook his head, indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it. Minho didn’t need to hear about their financial constraints. “Who made these?” he asked, nibbling on another cookie that Minho had placed within munching distance. 

Minho gulped down a mouthful and his smile grew. “Our housekeeper,” he admitted. “She’s everything, really. After mom died, dad hired her to take care of stuff.”

Jisung nodded in understanding. “I’m sure he needed the help.”

“We both did,” Minho nodded.

For a while they sat in comfortable silence, listening to their own thoughts rather than the dull sounds of the party. At some point, they’d unconsciously shifted closer together so that their shoulders were touching. Jisung’s hand had somehow found its way back into Minho’s, and together they now radiated a flush of warmth so that even when a cold breeze drifted over them, neither of them shivered. 

“This is nice,” Jisung whispered. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him now, but he daren’t meet them. 

“When do you have to leave?”

The question was expected, and shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. But Jisung hated to think of having to leave right now. Still, he didn’t blame Minho for asking. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Whenever…” Whenever the hospital decided he needed to return. “I really don’t know, Minho.”

Minho pulled his hand away, and Jisung lamented the loss. He risked a glance at Minho now. The brunette had pulled his knees up to his chest, chin resting upon them. He shifted his gaze towards Jisung who wasn’t quick enough to look away. He felt warmth creep into his cheeks, as it often did when Minho looked at him.

Tentatively, Minho reached out a hand, fingers tugging at a stray piece of cotton hanging from one of Jisung’s sleeves. He tugged until the thread came undone and the blue string rested in his palm.

“I want you to stay, Jisung, even though I know you won’t. Just like a dream. No matter how good of a dream it is, it always ends. But I’ll look at this tomorrow and know that you  _ aren’t _ a dream. I’ll look at this thread and know that you’re out there, that you’ll come back. You  _ will _ come back, won’t you?” His eyes were wide, brimming with tears. “I know it’s stupid,” Minho went on, a slight tremble to his voice. “I barely know you. But I’ve been so lonely, so so lonely. And then you came along. And…” he took a deep breath, his cheeks flushed. “I know we’ve only met once before, but – but I thought…”

Something moved in Jisung’s chest and he felt tears spring to his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional person. He didn’t cry often. But  _ this _ , knowing that there was someone who wanted him around, who wished that he would stay, who cared for his existence…

“I’ll come back,” he reassured Minho, reaching for his hand once more. “Of course I will.” If he had to beg the white walls of the hospital like a madman he’d do it, just to come back.

Both jumped a foot into the air when the sound of something buzzing erupted from Minho’s pocket. “Sorry,” Minho muttered, fishing his cellphone out of his pocket. To his surprise, Minho slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“That’s not an important call?” Jisung quirked an eyebrow,

Minho shook his head, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “That… That was Hyunjin. He can call back. He’s the one who…” Minho seemed flustered now, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “He’s the one from the diner.”

Jisung stiffened. The one who stood Minho up was suddenly… calling him? “I don’t understand why he’s calling you.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“He apologised,” Minho sounded defensive. “And we – we hung out a few times.” He said the last part so softly that Jisung might’ve imagined it.

“You hung out with the guy who stood you up and then laughed at you like you were a joke.” 

Again, Minho pulled his hand away. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“But that’s how it is.” Jisung knew he was being blunt and insensitive, but knowing that Minho had been hanging out with that jerk caused a massive dent to Jisung’s own sense of pride. And soon, jealousy began to rear itself, turning him into a petty child. “You don’t think that’s a little desperate?” 

“Desperate?” Minho gaped in offence. “Of course I was desperate! I said I was lonely, didn’t I? And  _ you _ were certainly nowhere to be found. Excuse me for not wanting to go through high school as a complete loner.”

Jisung looked down at his hands ashamedly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I just – I… I’m sorry.” He settled for an apology, because he really didn’t have an explanation for his pettiness. He was just being stupid.

“He’s not bad,” was Minho’s reply. “He just loses his way sometimes, but,” he glanced at Jisung, “don’t we all?”

“Yeah,” Jisung muttered, still embarrassed at his behaviour. “You know,” he gave Minho a curious smile, “for a high school kid, you seem a bit beyond your years.”

Minho laughed. “Says the middle-schooler,” he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Circumstances, I guess, forced me to grow up a little faster than I liked.”

“Oh, I can relate,” Jisung looked up at the glittering sky. But none of these stars could compare to Minho’s sparkling eyes. “For what it’s worth, you and I…” he smiled shyly. “We can be kids when we’re together.”

“Yeah?” Minho chuckled. “I’d like that.” For a long moment, and Jisung didn’t know how long, they made eye-contact, each trying to decipher the meaning behind the other’s warm gaze.

And they heard it at the same time. Footsteps approached, rushed footsteps, trampling the grass, twigs snapping. Jisung was already trying to come up with a plausible excuse as to why he was trespassing, dressed in his pajamas. Sleep-walking? Would that do? He just hoped he didn’t get Minho into trouble. If he did –

“Oh you’re here to take him again.”

Minho’s voice startled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see that familiar face.  _ Changbin? _ Minho looked from Jisung to Changbin, the panicked look in his eyes conveying that he understood the reason for Changbin’s presence. 

“Please,” Minho began to plead. “Just give him more time. An hour? A few more minutes? Please?”

Changbin stood with folded arms. His black hair was swept to the side and he was dressed in an immaculate white suit, an almost empty wine glass dangling from his fingers. Jisung wondered if he’d been at the party all this time. How strange to just be able to immerse yourself anywhere.

“Unfortunately,” Changbin drawled, “I can’t allow that. We have to go now.” He looked at Jisung, eyebrows raised. “Right now.”

Jisung wondered what would happen if he refused to go back. Could he just leave everything behind? His parents, Seungmin… No. He couldn’t. He had responsibilities. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung got to his feet, Minho standing with him. “I have to go, Minho.”

“But…” Minho spluttered. “You haven’t been here that long. Jisung, please.” His desperation was evident and it started a growing ache in Jisung’s chest. 

“Wait for me,” Jisung offered him a pained smile. “I’ll come back.” He’d barely touched a hand to Minho’s cheek before Changbin was pulling him back by the arm.

Jisung cast Minho one last stricken glance, and then realized he was being pulled out into the open. “Changbin,” he gulped. “Everyone’s going to see me!”

Changbin rolled his eyes, his grip on Jisung’s arm firm. “No, they won’t. Don’t worry. Nice pajamas though.” 

Jisung scowled. “Where are we going anyway?”

“I figured we should be decent folk and use the gate this time,” Changbin huffed. “The wall’s a bit difficult to get through.”

Jisung furrowed his brows and nodded like he understood. “Oh, okay.”

He looked over his shoulder but Minho was no longer in sight. They’d already turned the corner and true to Changbin’s word, the other guests rushed around them like they were invisible.

Huge iron-wrought gates stood at the front of the house. Changbin released his arm now. “Ready?”

Jisung looked longingly back at the house and turned forward once more. “Ready.”

And beyond the gate, the world began to change. Instead of the wide stretch of tarred road, large twisting tree roots sprouted from the grassy terrain. The tree branches extended over each other, forming a canopy and blocking out what little light the dark sky had to offer. 

Jisung’s ears were suddenly abuzz with the sound of crickets and other woodland critters. When he squinted he could make out the peculiar yellow color of the leaves where the light escaped into the forest. 

“Changbin, what is this?”

But he already knew – Yellow Wood.

Changbin gave him a knowing smile. “Time to go, Jisung.”

He placed a hand on one side of the gate, gesturing for Jisung to do the same. Together, they pushed forward until the gate swung open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has given this fic a chance, thank you 💕


	5. In Which Jisung Learns a Valuable Lesson and Acquires a Valuable Object

When Jisung looked back, he saw as he expected, that the gate and the mansion behind it had vanished. Both he and Changbin stood in the middle of a long path stretching out for miles on either side of them. When Jisung breathed in, fresh air filled his lungs and he savoured the scent of freesias, lavender and damp soil. It was a welcome change from the city with its smell of fuel and fire and iron.

Lush trees with grey bark and narrow branches lined their path, and even though the canopy of yellow leaves above them blocked out the light of the sky, Jisung found that he was able to see clearly, almost as if the trees themselves radiated light; looking closely, he realized that they did. The glow of the leaves illuminated their path, so that they were able to spot the moss-covered rocks that loomed ahead and avoid the twisting tree roots that jutted up from the ground. Some of the trees were oddly shaped, with twisting branches and hunched trunks. He looked in wonder at a strange tree with its trunk split into two, each half curving inward to form a circle.

Above him, the leaves shook, and he spotted several finches peeking down at him from the topmost branches. From behind a few tall, curling ferns, a rabbit poked its head out to stare and Jisung stared back in amazement. He’d grown up in the hustle and bustle of an industrialized town. These were rare sights. 

When Jisung spotted the third circular shaped tree, he halted in his tracks. “Changbin.” He was hesitant to interrupt the quiet buzz of their surroundings with his voice, but he felt compelled. “I think… I think we’re going in circles.”

Changbin stood idly beside him, his arms folded. With his fancy suit he looked just as out of place in the forest as Jisung did with his pajamas.

“Well,” Changbin grimaced, “we are.”

“You  _ knew _ ?” Jisung gaped, suddenly alarmed by the fact they were lost. “You knew and you just kept going?” 

“Why do  _ I _ have to do everything?” Changbin seemed unbothered that they’d been wandering in circles for the past half an hour. “Use your brain, Han Jisung. Find the way out.”

“But – But you’ve probably been in here loads of times!” Jisung spluttered. “Surely you know the way out?”

“Of course I do,” Changbin’s lips curved into a smug smile. “But it’s  _ my _ way out. Find your own. I’m just with you for my amusement.”

Jisung scowled, turning on the spot to take in his surroundings. His view of the forest suddenly changed. The atmosphere had transformed from pleasant and relaxed into daunting and unwelcoming. The woodland critters that poked their heads out to look at him no longer seemed charming and curious, but instead their gazes were hostile and scrutinizing. 

“I’ll never find my way out of here,” he murmured, giving up before he had even started looking.

“Now, now,” Changbin chided, clicking his tongue. “Let’s not be so negative. You need to look a little deeper and a little further, perhaps in unconventional places, if you want to find your way through.”

_ Deeper? Further? _ Jisung turned away from the path and looked at the trees, trying to peer between their trunks. “You mean in there?” he gestured at the trees with a tilt of his head. “But the path is right here,” he frowned. “Why would a path be here if we’re not meant to use it?”

Changbin sighed, wearily albeit dramatically. “Sometimes, Jisung, you can’t reach your destination by following the path already set out for you. Sometimes you need to make your own path.”

“But…” Jisung looked at the mass of trees surrounding them. A maze with no beginning or end. “But if I lose my way in there…” How would he get home? What if he was lost forever? What if there was a dangerous creature lurking about, waiting to sink its teeth and claws into him? What would happen to him? Would he just cease to exist?

“Would you rather wait and not go anywhere? Or would you take a risk, explore, and perhaps find your way out?” 

The choices Changbin dangled before him put him into a tight spot. On one hand, there was safety without progress, and on the other hand, risk with a chance of progress. But at the end of the day… “I’ll be stuck here either way,” Jisung realized. “If I stay here, I’ll never get out. But if I try to find my way out, I might just succeed.” 

“Trying,” Changbin smiled in satisfaction and snapped his fingers. “Trying is the key.”

So Jisung tried. 

Once he got the hang of pushing low hanging branches out of the way, ducking under the ones too heavy to move and clambering over raised roots, he began to cover ground fairly quickly – so quickly, that he’d almost trudged straight into a ravine. 

“Honestly,” Changbin huffed, holding him back by his sweater. “Clumsy much, Jisung?”

Jisung gave Changbin his customary scowl. “It’s kind of my first time being lost in a forest, or have I given the impression that I’ve done this before?”

Changbin didn’t appear ruffled by his sarcasm. Instead, he pulled Jisung back until his feet were firmly on the ground and picked off a few leaves that had lodged themselves in Jisung’s hair. “Well?” he stared expectantly.

“Well what?” Jisung’s brows drew together. “It’s a dead end.”

“Is it?”

“It – I –” He looked out at the bright blue sky and the strange endless clouds of yellow that swarmed below the edge of the cliff. “It’s a dead end,” he confirmed. “I don’t see how we can go any further.”

“Risk,” Changbin whispered softly, leaning close to Jisung’s ear as if it was a secret. “Take a risk.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Risk?” he gawked at the abyss. “That’s death! Not risk!”

“Really?” Changbin ruffled his own dark hair, causing a few leaves to fall to the ground. “What if I promised that you won’t die? What if jumping is the only way out?”

But Jisung wasn’t so easily moved. He knew next to nothing about Changbin. He was with a stranger in a strange place and trust simply wouldn’t come easily. Changbin could be a pathological liar. He could be sending Jisung to his death. What would Seungmin do then? How could he risk leaving Seungmin alone because he blindly trusted a stranger?

“Would you rather not go back to Seungmin at all?”

Jisung started, looking at Changbin in surprise. “I didn’t – did I say that out loud?”

“Your question is irrelevant,” Changbin waved his question away. “Mine isn’t. Would you rather not go back to your brother at all?”

“I – I don’t know,” Jisung murmured. He’d never been this conflicted before.

Changbin nodded as if he had expected this. “If your answer is yes, then don’t follow me. But if your answer is no and you want to go back to your brother…” 

Jisung let out a shriek and reached out a hand to stop the other man, but he’d already dived over the edge of the cliff, plummeting into the ravine head-first. Jisung’s heart leapt out of his chest as he took trepid steps towards the edge, trying to get a glimpse of what had become of Changbin. But he was nowhere in sight. 

“No way,” Jisung muttered, dropping to the ground and pulling his knees to his chest. “No way am I doing that. No way. No way.”

For an hour, maybe two, he stared at the ocean of buttery yellow clouds floating before him. The realization that it wasn’t a dream and that he hadn’t woken up in some deserted park hit him heavily. His throat parched and his knees weak, he approached the edge of the ravine. The only way out… He took a deep breath, counting till three.

_ One _ . He recalled his mother’s hunched shoulders, her downcast eyes and her tearful apology when one day, a neighbour dragged a teenage Jisung to the house, explaining how he’d stolen a pair of shoes off the porch.  _ Two _ . He recalled the day, just over two years ago when his father denied him access to the house, calling him a disgrace to the family.  _ Three _ . He recalled Seungmin’s hopeful eyes, and the way that smile lit up his face every time he saw Jisung.

And he jumped. 

He felt the rush of wind as he hurtled to the ground, to his end. He forced his eyes open, astonished at the mass of blurred color around him – pinks and whites and blues, and woven through it all – a golden hue. Below him, where he expected to see the ground, he saw to his amazement, the metal floor of the elevator. And it was getting closer, and closer, and –

He hit the floor with a thud, forehead pressed against the cool metal surface. “Oww,” he groaned, stretching his body. His muscles ached as if he’d just run three marathons. He was exhausted, and his throat… He needed water – desperately. With more painful groans he pulled himself to his feet, pressing a hand against the shut metal doors. The keypad remained unresponsive. And he had no energy to keep pressing buttons like a madman. His feet giving out, he slid back down onto the floor. On the bright side, at least he wasn’t dead.

His eyes had just begun to close, when he was awoken by loud whirring noise, and the elevator lurched. He gasped, his eyes wide, wondering whether he was going to be taken back to the forest, but when the doors opened, he saw a burly elderly man with a toolbox, and in his white coat, looking much like an angel from the fresco, Felix.

“Oh thank goodness,” Felix smiled down at him. “I called the repairman as soon as I realized the elevator had stopped working, but at least you were only there for a few minutes and –” his eyes widened. “You don’t look so good, Jisung. You aren’t claustrophobic, are you? Come, let me check your vitals.”

Before he could protest, Jisung was being pulled to his feet and led into a room – Minho’s room! His face lit up at the sight of the male, peacefully asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Felix didn’t take long to complete his check-up, his brows lifting after assessing Jisung’s heart rate and blood pressure. “Jisung, from your vitals, I can tell how shaken you are. You must’ve had quite a fright in that elevator. And,” he frowned, “you look exhausted too.”

Jisung waved away his concern, although he was exhausted and could do with several days of sleep. “I’m okay, really.” He looked over Felix’s shoulder. He just wanted to spend some time with Minho.

“I don’t think so,” Felix was adamant, his arms folded. “I think you can take the day off. Get some rest.”

“No, no!” Jisung’s eyes widened. “I can –”

“I appreciate your effort,” Felix smiled. “And I’ll be sure to tell Johyuk. But your health is important too.” He glanced back at Minho. “I’m sure our John Doe will be fine without your company today.”

Jisung shook his head. “It’s really no prob –” He was cut off by the buzzing of his phone and looked at the doctor apologetically. “Uh…”

“You can answer that,” Felix laughed. “And please, go home, Jisung.” He patted his shoulder before striding out of the room. 

Jisung stared at the caller ID and furrowed his brows. Chan never called unless there was a problem with any of the goods Jisung procured, and he hadn’t stolen anything in a while. “Hey,” he answered, a nervous bundle of energy swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Um,” there was a pause, and Jisung immediately felt his heart sink. This had to be bad. “Can you come to the shop?” Chan asked, his tone level as if he was trying not to panic on Jisung’s behalf. “There’s someone here you should see.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Jisung murmured before hanging up. He tried to recall any illegal activities he’d partaken in recently but could think of nothing. He’d been so caught up in the mysteries of Yellow Wood that he hadn’t even stolen an apple in the past few days.

He should’ve been in a hurry to get to CB Electronics, but he couldn’t help approaching Minho. “I’m sorry I can’t stay long today,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his hand. “But I’ll come back when I can.”

Jisung took a deep breath before entering the shop, afraid of who might be waiting for him. He imagined it was the police, waiting with an arrest warrant and a long list of charges. He wondered whether his parents would hear of it, whether they’d come to his court hearing, whether they’d visit him in prison. Probably not.

“Chan,” he observed his friend, sitting in his usual chair in front of his computer. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Chan nodded in greeting, gesturing with a jerk of his head to the corner of the room. Jisung recognized Seungmin at the same time his brother recognized him. 

“What are you doing here?” Jisung gaped, jaw hanging.

_ Seungmin _ .  _ In a place like this _ . He’d never imagined…

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed into slits and he gave Chan a furious glare. “You tricked me! You told me to wait and…” he sighed in exasperation and looked away from Jisung. His mouth turned down at the corners and his eyes glistening with tears, he was the picture of guilt.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung repeated his question but Seungmin remained silent.

“I recognized him from the pictures you always show me,” Chan offered an explanation. “He said he came to sell his phone, and…”

“And?” It was awful enough that Seungmin had intended on selling the phone Jisung had bought for him only a year ago, but what more could there be?

“He offered to steal what he could from his classmates.”

Jisung blanched, the wind knocked out of him. “Seungmin?” He felt a multitude of things – anger, disappointment, and the most prevalent, shock. “Minnie, is this true?”

Seungmin nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground like a petulant child. Jisung started towards him in anger, but stopped himself. There must be a reason. His brother would never even think of doing this without a good reason. Seungmin was good. Seungmin was pure. Seungmin was everything Jisung could not be. Jisung had made sure of it. He’d turned to crime to put food on the table for Seungmin, and then to clothe him, to fulfil each of his needs, poorly, barely, but he tried. 

“Why, Minnie?”

From behind them, Chan murmured something about needing to step out for some air, and Jisung was grateful for the privacy. 

“Half of my tuition is unpaid,” Seungmin answered, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re late with my tuition payments. I sent in a few job applications but it’s so hard to find something part-time, you know? And I can’t write my final exams if my tuition is unpaid.” He gulped, looking at Jisung imploringly. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Jisung felt like a disappointment, like a failure. He should have found a way to pay Seungmin’s tuition by now. That should have been his priority. It should never have come to this. He shuddered to think Seungmin had nearly been sucked into a whirlpool of crime. He’d tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Seungmin from becoming like him.

“I’m sorry, Seungmin.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened and in an instant, he’d wrapped his arms around his brother. “Jisung, it’s not your responsibility,” his voice shook. “ _ I’m _ not your responsibility. You don’t have to take care of me all the time.”

While Seungmin was adept at bottling his emotions, Jisung could not keep his own tears at bay, and he pulled back to brush his sleeve over his wet cheeks. “Nonsense,” he shook his head. “I’m your brother. I’ll look after you, even when you don’t want me to.”

“But Jisung –”

“Don’t argue about this!” Jisung scolded. “I’ll pay your tuition. There’s no need for you to do any of this. Just trust me.” He would do whatever he had to do, and he wouldn’t let Seungmin down this time.

It was easy to enter the hospital without suspicion, yet his nerves were at an all-time high. The receptionist greeted him with a smile and waved as he stepped into the elevator. He tried to return her smile but couldn’t. This time the elevator took him straight to the fifth floor without any delay. His heart beat out of his chest as he scanned the hallway, making sure there were no nurses or doctors in sight. Sure of his safety, he made a beeline for Minho’s room.

His mouth felt dry as he approached the bed, and his eyes darted around the room, making sure all the other beds were empty. A part of him willed Minho to wake up and stop him from doing this. He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to. But what choice did he have?

“I’m so sorry, Minho.”

His fingers trembled as he reached for the chain that hung around Minho’s neck, the shiny gold promising him a way to pay Seungmin’s tuition. He had never felt more ashamed as he undid the clasp and removed the necklace, the diamond-laden heart shaped pendant dangling in front of his eyes. He hung it around his own neck, making sure it was hidden by his sweater. The cold metal pressing against his chest sent a shiver up his spine. This felt  _ wrong _ . But he’d done so much wrong in his lifetime. Why should this time be any different?

He hurried down the front steps of the hospital, breathing a sigh of relief when he was on the street. He hadn’t been stopped. He hadn’t been caught. But he felt as though he was about to be. He felt as though he was being chased. He scanned the street but no one paid him any attention.

Except the black cat.

Its yellow eyes stared unblinking from across the street where it sat silently, judging. Jisung turned away from it, pursing his lips and setting off on a jog.

“I know you sell electronics, but you know people, right?” Jisung looked at Chan hopefully. “You can get a good price on a nice piece of jewellery?”

He’d found Chan in the midst of taking apart a game console. Chan looked at him with renewed interest and put aside his pliers. “Yeah, I know people. You have that  _ nice _ piece of jewellery with you?”

“Um,” Jisung placed a hand against his chest, feeling the golden heart press against his skin. “I…” He didn’t know why he was so hesitant. All he had to do was sell the necklace and pay Seungmin’s tuition.

But Seungmin’s tuition was only due in a month’s time. He had time. He could hold onto the necklace and if he failed to find something else, then, and only then, would he sell it. But he didn’t have to give it up right now.

“No,” he shook his head. “I… I changed my mind.” For now. For now, what was left of his dignity would remain intact.


	6. Good Intentions and Yellow Waterfalls

The cat. The goddamn awful cat.  _ That cat _ was the only reason Jisung found himself with two feet placed firmly on a stool as he attempted for the first time in his life to paint a wall.

He’d spent another night at Mimi’s (not so) Dazzling Diner. The store room made for a great makeshift bedroom and as far as he knew, no other vagrants were aware of the availability of the space, or the derelict diner would have been overcrowded. 

He’d woken to a loud, whiny purr, and as much as he tried to block out the sound, it just got louder. And when he felt the soft pads of paws on his chest he knew that sleep was a thing of the past. “What do you want?” He lifted his head off the floor and scowled at the creature perched on his chest. 

The cat stared, its yellow eyes unblinking, tail curling around its feet. Jisung was about to shoo it away when he caught a whiff of something. Something delicious. Something warm. Something freshly baked. His jaw dropped and he began salivating, eyes wildly darting around the store room before they settled on the bag sitting by its lonesome self in the doorway. 

“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow at the cat. “Is uh… Is that for me?”

The cat hopped off his chest in response, trotting over to the brown bag and sitting down beside it.

This was absurd. No. Absurd didn’t quite cover it. But then, how exactly would one describe being treated to breakfast by a cat? 

He sat up and narrowed his eyes at the creature. “What are you?” he enquired, leaning forward to study the cat. “You… I mean, there’s no way  _ you _ can walk into a café, order food, and bring it back here. You’re a cat. Unless…” he tilted his head. “Unless you’re  _ not _ .”

The cat emitted a low purr, and Jisung could’ve sworn it bared its teeth into a grin. He shook his head, sure that he was going crazier with each passing second. 

He did think that he would’ve been rid of the cat once he’d finished his croissant and wrapped up the remaining one for Seungmin. But the little cinder-colored fiend had even followed him to his parents’ house. 

“Nice cat,” Seungmin remarked, wolfing down his croissant, a book propped on his lap. “Didn’t know you liked them.”

“It’s not m –” But before he could finish, the cat began to claw at his foot. “What?” he scowled. But he knew what. “I don’t want to go there.” He couldn’t face Minho. Fair enough, he was in a deep sleep, but still, Jisung would feel too guilty standing there and knowing that he’d stolen something from him – something that still hung around his neck. The cat mewled loudly, an angry complaint.

“Absolutely not,” Jisung refused, his arms folded.

Seungmin watched the whole exchange with his jaw hanging open, his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you… arguing with a  _ cat _ ?”

Yes, apparently Jisung was arguing with a cat. Because that was what his sad life had come to – magical hospitals, time travel, and arguing with pesky croissant-gifting cats. 

“Jisung? You kinda zoned out.”

“Hm?” Jisung snapped back to attention, sighing in frustration. “Seungmin, you’re intelligent, right?” he turned to his brother who nodded with a shrug of his shoulders. “So tell me, what would you do if there was someone you really cared about and wanted to see, but that person was in a really awful place and you risked your sanity every time you went there?”

For a few seconds, Seungmin simply stared, face impassive and then he broke into a smile. “I think,” he hummed as tried to gather his thoughts, “that if you really cared about this person, you’d go to the awful place anyway.”

Jisung didn’t expect this answer from his always practical brother, and began to seek out an argument that would convince Seungmin, and  _ himself _ , that he needn’t go back to that hospital at all.

“And anyway,” Seungmin went on, “would you really want to leave that  _ someone _ in that awful place all by themselves? If I were you I’d try to get them away from there.”

More frustration. Because Jisung wished more than anything that Minho would wake up from his slumber and leave the hospital. But who knew when that would happen? Or if it would happen at all… 

He glanced at the cat who met his gaze with its rapt piercing yellow eyes, its head slightly tilted as if it wanted desperately for Jisung to know something. Jisung touched his chest, the cold metal of the stolen necklace sending a shiver up his spine. He could return it. He  _ should _ return it. But Seungmin…

“What?” Seungmin caught the strange look he’d been given.

“What if I’m…” Jisung looked away, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What if I’m a bad person?”

He heard the creak of the bed as Seungmin rose to his feet, but he couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “You’re not a bad person,” his voice was a whisper and he placed a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, pressing down lightly. “You’re a good person who has to do bad things because in the world we live in, the bad is rewarded but good deeds get you nothing but an empty stomach.” Jisung looked up in surprise. Like his parents, Seungmin too had never approved of Jisung’s means of providing for them. Like them, he’d asked Jisung many times to give up that lifestyle. But now it almost sounded as if he… As if he… “I understand,” Seungmin offered him a reassuring smile. “I always understood. I may not like the things you do but I get why you do them. You do them for us, for  _ me _ . Not for yourself. You’re  _ good _ , Jisung. You’re kind. You’re unselfish. You’re everything that society values yet they’ll always shun you because they’re unable to see past the things you do. But not me. I’ll never think of you as a bad person. You’re my brother and I…” he pressed his lips together, blinking rapidly and Jisung realized with a start that he was trying to hold back his tears. “And I’ll always love you.”

“Seungmin –”

“Shut up and let me finish,” the brunette rolled his eyes. “Whoever it is that has you so worked up,” and Jisung fought back a blush, “I think that if they really care about you, they’ll be able to see past the things you do. They’ll be able to see who you really are.”

Jisung threw his arms around his brother, his eyes stinging with tears. “Thank you,” he murmured. It was as if Seungmin’s words had wiped away the fog from the mirror, and Jisung now had clarity.

“You’re welcome,” Seungmin chuckled, patting his back. “But uh…”

“What?” Jisung pulled back, his eyes wide with worry.

“At least shower before you go. You stink.”

“You’re so annoying!” he shoved Seungmin’s shoulder. “I do not stink.” 

Freshly showered, the smell of Seungmin’s primrose scented shampoo in his hair, he walked through the doors of Yellow Wood hospital. No sooner had he walked across the lobby, than a deep voice called his name, stopping him just as he was about to step into the elevator. He inwardly groaned, eager to get to Minho.

“Jisung!” Felix caught up to him, a smile lighting up his face. “You’re just the person I was looking for!”

“Me?”

Felix nodded eagerly, energetically bouncing on his heels. “I’m relieving you of your usual duties today. Are you any good with a paintbrush?”

Felix’s smile was contagious, and despite his lack of experience with a paintbrush, he found himself nodding. Only a second later, a paintbrush had been shoved into his hand and he was left with vague instructions as to how he should go about painting the staff kitchen.

He was on his second wall now, and… Well, he was glad that all the appliances had been pushed to the centre of the room and covered with a plastic tarp.

He hopped off the ladder to admire his handiwork. “Not bad,” he remarked, taking a few steps back. Too many steps back.

He cringed when he heard the can of yellow paint tip over, hitting the floor with an echoing clang. He braced himself for a mess before he turned around. But instead of a puddle of yellow paint, there was a gaping hole in the floor. It was dark, and roughly the size of the circumference of a human body. The paint can had fallen close to the edge, and a torrent of yellow paint poured into the dark space. 

Logically speaking, the paint should’ve run out seconds ago – there was no way that much paint could fit in one can. But it kept flowing like a waterfall.

At this point, Jisung  _ really _ shouldn’t have been surprised, but he stared, slack-jawed, eyes wide. His eyes flickered to the doorway, but there were no voices or passers-by. This all could have been a part of his imagination. Perhaps he’d slipped off the ladder and taken an awful blow to his head. But there was an alternate, more plausible explanation, one that instinctively drew him closer to the waterfall of paint. He stared into the abyss, his lower lip drawn between his teeth.

_ Minho _ . This will take him to Minho. He was sure of it. But  _ how _ ? Was he supposed to just jump?

He chucked the paintbrush into the hole, watching as it disappeared into the darkness. He listened, waiting for a thud or a splash or anything to give him a clue as to what might happen if he jumped. But there was silence. 

He sat at the edge of the abyss, his legs dangling dangerously over the edge. He sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw.  _ Risk _ , Changbin had said.  _ Take a risk. _

So he screwed his eyes shut and pushed himself over the edge.

It was like one of those dreams – the ones where you’re drifting off and suddenly your body begins to sense danger. Your chest tightens and your muscles tense. The fall happens so fast that you don’t realize you’re falling until it’s too late. His clever brother had once told Jisung there was a name for that kind of dream. Hyp…? He couldn’t recall it right then. He was more focused on his never-ending destination and the increasing velocity with which his body approached the… wherever he was going.

The space seemed narrow but when he spread his arms and legs, there were no walls. He dropped into free fall, his body somersaulting in the air – and it might have been a fun experience for some, but for Jisung, it was nightmarish. His stomach lurched every time his body rotated, and he could feel the contents of his breakfast being shaken around. 

Just when he was beginning to get used to the change in air pressure, he hit a solid surface and landed painfully on his bottom. 

“Ouch!” he yelped, the stinging sensation in his bottom reverberating through the rest of his body.

_ Hypnic jerk, _ he recalled. That was the thing Seungmin mentioned. But unlike the hypno – no what was it? Hyptic? Unlike  _ the dream thing _ , he’d actually landed somewhere.

It was a rather large bedroom. The wooden furniture was sparse. But it seemed as though each piece of furniture had been carefully selected for their beautiful classic appearances. It was like something out of a book, yet still modern, given the overall appearance of the room. The green curtains were pulled back, revealing large floor to ceiling windows, and the humongous bed was covered in sheets the same mint green color as the curtains.

_ Mint green _ . Why did that ring a bell? 

Jisung groaned, using a nearby desk to pull himself up. His ears were still blocked like he’d just emerged from underwater, and his body ached like he’d been swimming for hours. With difficulty, he walked over to the window, looking out at the lawn and at the –  _ oh _ . 

_ Animal-shaped bushes. _ He turned around to study the contents of the room again.  _ Mint green curtains and sheets.  _

This had to be Minho’s house. This had to be  _ Minho’s room _ ! Jisung’s heart began to race and his spine tingled with excitement, which soon diminished when he realized that he was breaking and entering. 

He began to panic. What was he supposed to do? Sneak back out and ring the doorbell? That actually sounded like a plausible idea, but moving through the house undetected in broad daylight would be difficult, even for a seasoned thief like Jisung. He jammed a finger in each ear, wiggling them about until there was a pop and his hearing returned. Too late, he registered the sound of running water coming from what was obviously an adjoined bathroom. 

“Fuck,” he swore out loud. The water had stopped. “Fuck,” Jisung repeated, as if that was the magic word that would get him out of this predicament.

He didn’t have time to think of a solution, because the sliding door opened, and out stepped Minho, clad in a fluffy white bathrobe. Jisung stared in awe. He’d changed. He’d  _ grown _ .

Minho had only just begun to run his hands through his wet hair when he caught sight of Jisung frozen in front of his desk. His eyes widened and his gasp was audible. Before Jisung could offer a greeting, Minho had grabbed the bedside lamp, pulling it free and aiming it at him.

“Minho – no – don’t!” Jisung spluttered, holding his hands up defensively. 

Minho stopped mid-motion, the lamp poised to leave his hand. He blinked several times and narrowed his eyes, his hand slowly falling to his side. And just when Jisung thought Minho didn’t recognize him, “Jisung,” he gasped, his jaw hanging open. 

Jisung nodded, lowering his hands when he realized the danger had passed. “You have blonde hair,” he blurted, immediately regretting that those had been the first words out of his mouth. He debated approaching Minho, but ultimately decided to leave the next move to him. The lamp was still in his hand after all. “It’s been a while, I think.” He furrowed his brows, trying to gauge exactly how much time had passed.

“You think,” Minho’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He tightened the belt around his bathrobe and wrapped his arms around his body. “How are you here? How are you in my house? How did you… Did our housekeeper let you in? Did you… sneak in?”

Jisung shook his head, unable to explain. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you, isn’t it?” Minho’s lips curved into a wry smile, and Jisung didn’t blame him for being bitter. He studied Jisung for a few seconds, and Jisung squirmed beneath his scrutiny. “You can sit down.” He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and gestured to an armchair near the window.

Not a happy reunion then. Jisung could feel his heart sinking. But really, if he’d been in Minho’s position would he have reacted any differently?

His bottom was relieved to find itself in the comfort of the armchair. Minho had retrieved a hair dryer and had begun to dry his hair, his eyes never leaving Jisung. To avoid Minho’s gaze, Jisung looked around, his eyes finally settling on the adjacent shelf where several framed photos were arranged. As he studied each one, his heart broke into tinier pieces. 

What upset him the most wasn’t that Minho was obviously in a relationship – although that itself didn’t make Jisung sing with joy. What really upset Jisung was  _ who _ Minho appeared to be dating.

“Hyunjin is really good to me.” Minho had switched off the hairdryer and was staring intently at the framed photo in Jisung’s hands. In the photo, they sat side by side on a bench, snow falling around them, Hyunjin’s lips pressed onto Minho’s hair. Two ethereally beautiful beings. Jisung would never fit in this picture. 

“I’m glad,” he managed, swallowing back his jealousy. And he really was glad, if that was the case and Hyunjin was being good to Minho. Jisung couldn’t hate him for that.

“I start med school in a few days.”

Jisung almost dropped the frame. “You – you’re going to  _ university _ ? You’re done with high school?” Minho nodded, leaning back against the headboard. “Graduated a month ago.” “Wow,” Jisung murmured. Two years had passed. Two whole years. No wonder Minho had taken a while to recognize him. “So you’re going to be a doctor?”

Minho smiled at this. “Yeah. Like my dad.”

For a long moment, they locked eyes, the air between them prickling with tension caused by questions unanswered and words unsaid. 

Something – no,  _ many _ things – seemed different about Minho. He seemed more poised, and even though he wasn’t doing anything, he exerted an air of confidence that hadn’t been there before. It intimidated Jisung, so much so that he had to ball his fingers into fists to stop their tremble.

“Are we going to do this thing again?” Minho asked, breaking the spell and rummaging inside his bedside drawer. 

“What thing?” Jisung tilted his head, his brows knitted together.

“That thing where we pretend nothing is unusual about this situation.” Jisung gulped, staring at the thread that now sat in the middle of Minho’s palm. “You know,” Minho huffed out a laugh, “whenever I spoke to Hyunjin about you, I had a feeling he thought I was slightly crazy. Only slightly. If he hadn’t seen you himself outside the diner where we first met, he would have asked my father to book me a permanent stay in the psychiatric ward. And if I didn’t take this thread from you, I would have probably checked myself in there.”

“I’m sorry,” Jisung began, “I –”

“No, no,” Minho shook his head. “I think we should do that thing. Let’s pretend.” Jisung couldn’t exactly disagree. He had no explanation to offer Minho. He knew that he wanted answers, but Jisung couldn’t give them to him without sounding like a lunatic. “You look good.”

Jisung flushed at the compliment, his eyes darting around for a mirror. It was too far away, so he tried to examine himself, fingers reaching up to touch his hair. He was dressed in jeans and a crocheted light pink sweater. His hair as far as he could tell, was chocolate brown and cut into layers. 

He  _ had _ looked good. This was just before he’d dropped out of school – before his family had reached their lowest point. Although luxuries were never on the cards for them, they’d still had three meals a day. Jisung still pickpocketed, but only to buy things that didn’t fit into his parents’ budget – school trip fees, a warm pair of boots, ice cream…

“I don’t know,” Jisung joked. “I think the pajamas were more stylish.” They both laughed, recalling their last meeting. He could hear the hum of chatter drifting in through the door. “Am I… I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

“Oh,” Minho rolled his eyes. “They’re having a farewell dinner for me later today, but there are still a few hours before then. I haven’t even picked out anything to wear,” he muttered, gazing towards the large built-in closet. 

Jisung followed his gaze, and feeling bold enough, he offered, “Can I? Can I help?”

Minho looked taken aback, but he nodded, gesturing towards the closet. “Go ahead.”

Minho’s closet spanned one entire wall, and was organized, much like Seungmin’s. Jisung was quick to find formal clothes on one end, and casual on the other. “I take it, it’s a formal dinner?”

“Of course,” Minho sighed, not seeming very happy about it. “The whole family will be here. Aunts, uncles, everyone.”

“You don’t sound happy,” Jisung raised a brow, examining a silky maroon suit and placing it back into the closet. Did all rich eighteen year olds own such fancy clothes?

“There’s going to be drama,” Minho huffed. “I just know it. This family is…”

Jisung cast him an amused glance over his shoulder. “But family is always like that, right?”

“You don’t understand,” Minho stood up and began to pace, his forehead creased as he attempted to explain. “It usually starts off fine. Everyone’s eating and making merry, and then always –  _ always _ – he starts something.”

“He?” Jisung looked up from a grey suit. “Who?”

Minho scowled. “Jeongin.”

“Oh,” Jisung remembered now. Minho had dubbed his stepbrother as a spoilt brat. He must have gotten worse over the past two years.

“Yeah,” Minho rolled his eyes. “He enjoys ruining things. Especially things involving me. And tonight will be no different.”

“You don’t know that,” Jisung handed him his choice. The suit was black with tiny jade leaves embroidered around the collar and lapel. “I wanted to choose something green because it’s your favourite colour,” he explained, watching Minho’s expression for a sign of approval. “And this one is nice, and I –”

Minho laughed lightly. “I’ll wear it. I’ll just pass it on to one of the maidservants for pressing.”

“You don’t have to,” Jisung added, a sprinkle of warmth spreading across his cheeks. “I wanted to choose something you could wear your white scarf with – if it’s still your favourite – I’m not sure if – maybe you could – I mean it was your mother’s and –” he reddened further as he stumbled over his words. 

“Oh,” Minho quirked his brows in amusement. “It’s one of my favorites, but I was actually planning on wearing something else. Something I treasure just as much.”

Jisung watched as he approached his narrow bookshelf, removing a few thick hardbacks from the middle shelf. He gave Jisung a smug smile and stepped out of the way, revealing the hidden safe. 

“Oh.” Jisung’s inner thief sensors began to hum loudly.

“Mm-hm,” Minho began to enter the combination code, and Jisung had to force his eyes away. This was information a thief should not be so willingly given. “I keep all my mother’s jewellery here. Since my dad and step-mother share the master bedroom I figured they’d be uncomfortable with my mother’s stuff on display.” He glanced back at the suit. “Maybe a nice pair of earrings and a necklace?”

Earrings? Jisung gaped, noticing Minho’s pierced ears for the first time. “Wow,” he murmured softly, impressed with this development. 

Minho began sweeping velvet boxes aside, and Jisung ogled at the massive amount of jewellery horded in one space.

“These are the earrings,” Minho smiled, opening a box to reveal two small diamond studs. “And the necklace…” he frowned at the safe. “I swear, it was just here yesterday.” He carefully looked through each box, Jisung’s chest constricting more and more with each passing second. 

A necklace. Minho was looking for a necklace. If it was the same one Jisung had taken from Minho at the hospital… But how could that be? If this was a memory from the past… The necklace couldn’t be lost if Minho had wound up at the hospital with it around his neck.

“It has to be there,” Jisung reassured him, even though he could see that Minho had emptied out the contents of the safe and still looked distraught.

“It’s gone. My mother’s necklace is gone. She had it since she was a little girl and I – I lost it?” At first, Minho seemed to be experiencing a mixture of devastation and disbelief. “But I saw it in here just yesterday! And I didn’t take it out of the safe!” He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes flashing with anger. “Someone must have taken it!”

“But who?” Jisung frowned. This didn’t make sense. 

“The only person besides myself who comes in here is the housekeeper,” Minho’s voice sounded distant, like he was a million miles away. “None of the other maidservants are allowed in our bedrooms, but our housekeeper…”

Jisung was taken aback by how quickly Minho had pinned the blame on the housekeeper. “I don’t think you should –”

“Dad!” Minho had already flung open his bedroom door and was marching down the hallway. 

Jisung peered around the doorway, trying to gauge what was about to happen while keeping himself hidden. Minho’s father met him in the hallway, a newspaper in his hand. They had a hushed conversation and Jisung could only just make out the words “stolen”, “necklace” and “Mrs Han”. 

_ Mrs Han. _

He watched Minho and his father disappear down a staircase, and he backed away from the doorway. It couldn’t be. There were many Mrs Han’s. It was just a strange coincidence. 

“Jisung, come.” He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Jisung shrugged off Changbin’s hand. “Wait, I have to see.” He had to see. He had to know.

“It’s time to go,” Changbin insisted, fingers closing around Jisung’s wrist. “Come.”

“I don’t want to!” Jisung snapped, whipping around to face Changbin. “I think my mother – I – I have to see!”

Changbin sighed wearily and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Take a look around, Jisung. It’s too late.”

Jisung frowned, unable to understand, and then he did take a look around. Minho’s room had almost disappeared. Only the faintest lines remained where four walls should have been. They were in the forest once again, surrounded by trees and shrubs and lush greenery. And just a few feet in front of them, was another dark hole, just like the one Jisung had fallen through. 

“I take it that’s the exit.”

Changbin nodded, gesturing for Jisung to move forward. But Jisung remained where he was. “You’re angry.”

Jisung shot Changbin an exasperated look. “I needed to see what happened back there! If it was my mother, I –”

“If you really want to know,” Changbin cut in, “why don’t you just ask your mother whether she worked for the Lees?”

Jisung pursed his lips. “My mother hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She hates what you do, but she doesn’t hate  _ you _ .”

Didn’t Seungmin just tell him something similar that morning? “I think you’d get along well with my brother,” Jisung remarked, casting Changbin a sideways glance. “If you weren’t so… mysterious.”

Changbin laughed. “I think I would too. Shall we leave?”

Jisung nodded, swinging his legs over the circumference of the hole.

“Seungmin is right,” Changbin said softly, crouching down beside him. “Your deeds don’t define you, your intentions do. When you start believing that, others will too.”

Jisung swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll work on it.”


	7. Matters of The Heart

“Seungmin isn’t home.”

“Please wait!” Jisung managed before she began to shut the door in his face. The woman looked at him with tired eyes. He took a second to grasp that she looked much older than her age. All that grey hair, the wrinkles on her face, her frail hands… He needed to know. He had to know. “Please, mom. I need to talk to you.”

She clenched her jaw, a flicker of sadness passing through her features before she schooled them into the face of disapproval. “Your father will be home in a few minutes,” she warned and the threat was clear. But despite herself, she opened the door and allowed him in.

The kitchen smelled of freshly cooked rice and the little window closest to the stove was slightly clouded with steam. He glanced into the pot on the table – barely enough for two. He should’ve brought something instead of just rushing in there. But they wouldn’t have eaten it anyway. No, still, he should’ve—

“What do you want?” His mother stood across from him, leaving the table as a barrier between them.

On his way he’d tried to think of ways to bring it up, and came to the conclusion that there was no easy way. “Did you work for the Lee family?”

His mother pursed her lips, eyes flaring wide in surprise. 

“Mom? Did you?”

She considered him for a few moments before nodding once and looking away, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the window.

Jisung held onto the back of a chair for support and took a deep breath. A part of him had expected her to deny it, so he could deny that whatever he’d witnessed at Minho’s house had been a lie, a dream. But now… “Did you uh…” he shook his head and settled for, “Why did you stop working there?”

“I don’t know what you heard,” his mother said, her voice just above a whisper, “but I…” She pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. “You obviously heard something. You found out, didn’t you? That I was fired?” Still, she refused to look at him.

Jisung started towards her but she held up a hand. He hadn’t meant to upset her like this and seeing the tears in her eyes, brought tears to his own. “Mom…”

“The Lees were wonderful. Worked there for years, tending to the household, to the children. But then everything just…” She sniffled, using her apron to wipe her eyes. “I really didn’t do it. I would  _ never _ steal,” she croaked out, beginning to wring her hands. “You were at school when it happened. They searched our house. Took your father and I down to the station. Threatened to have us spend the night there and maybe a few months more. In the end they couldn’t find anything to keep us there. But the Lees… They fired me that day. And word spread. No one would keep your father and I in their employ anymore. It was so hard to find work after that.”

Jisung felt his gut twist, and he tightened his grip on the chair, his fingers digging into the wood. A large part of what he felt was disappointment; he felt disappointed in Minho, that he’d done this to Jisung’s family. But an even larger part was anger. This was all Minho’s fault, wasn’t it?

“And then the first time you were caught stealing by a neighbour,” his mother sighed. “Do you remember how Mr Chuyon dragged you over here?”

Or maybe it wasn’t all Minho’s fault.

The disappointment in her voice made the fiery ball of anger swirling dangerously in Jisung’s chest, slowly begin to freeze, transforming into an ice cold ball of self-loathing.

“This is why it makes us so angry, Jisung. You do the very thing we were accused of. The thing that made them humiliate us. And do you know what they say? They say, ‘Of course their son is a criminal. He must have learnt it from them.’ Even years later, although the family moved away, the accusation never left us. And you – you made it so much worse.”

Jisung could feel his heart crack into two. Minho’s family had caused his parents so much hurt and humiliation but he –  _ Jisung, himself _ – had caused so much more. And he’d just been causing more and more and more…

He let out a stuttering breath, tears clouding his vision. “I – I’m sor–” his voice broke and he choked back a sob. He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the cold metal of the necklace press against his skin. The  _ stolen _ necklace. He could delude himself into thinking he’d just taken the necklace for safekeeping; he could tell as many people as he liked that he planned on returning it to the comatose man in the hospital, but at the end of the day, he was a thief. A  _ thief _ . And putting  _ honourable _ in front of that word wasn’t going to make it better this time.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice wavering. He glanced at her back one more time before turning to the door. “I’ll make it right.”

“Jisung?”

He turned around, glassy eyes wide. “Mom?”

“Don’t get into any more trouble, please.”

He fastened the necklace around Minho’s neck and tucked the pendant into his hospital gown. He couldn’t help the anger he felt towards this man. One wrong judgement, one brash decision made without thinking had been the root of the Han family’s suffering. And there was still the matter of what really happened to the necklace back then… Did Minho just misplace it? He’d ruined so many lives because of a misplaced necklace?

“Are you going to judge him for a mistake he’s made?”

Jisung shrieked, nearly jumping out of his skin. When he spotted Changbin straddling the window ledge, his heart slowed to a steady thrum. “Ah, it’s you.”

Changbin was dressed rather simply in slacks and a baggy white t-shirt. His hair was messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. Jisung wondered whether the man actually had a home. Where did he live? Where did he eat? Where did he get his clothing?

“So,” Changbin grimaced, “Mr Judge-Me-Not, are you really that hypocritical?” 

Jisung scowled. “Do you have to be so… so  _ you _ ? I found out some pretty shocking stuff. You  _ know _ that, don’t you?” He suspected Changbin knew more than he let on. “Do you expect me to be all happy and smiling? Give me some time to just – just process things.”

Changbin jerked a shoulder. “Take all the time you need. You hungry?”

“If you’re asking me out on a date,” Jisung sneered, “moron isn’t my type.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Changbin drawled, stifling a yawn. “Smelly, unsophisticated men with mustard stained t-shirts and over-dyed hair aren’t my type.”

“Hey,” Jisung narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he subtly tried to sniff himself. “You think  _ my _ hair is bad? You should see my friend Chan.” 

“Believe me,” Changbin’s lips quirked into a sly smile, “you keep going blonde, you’ll keep going bald just like he will. His hair is as dry as an autumn leaf.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, belatedly wondering when Changbin had ever seen Chan to be able to make such a remark.

“Are you hungry?” Changbin repeated the question, a bit of impatience in his voice.

Jisung got the feeling he wasn’t used to not having things done promptly. Deliberately, he hummed, taking his time to answer and watching as Changbin’s expression transformed from agitated to angry. “Sorry,” he apologised, snorting out a laugh. “Yeah, sure, I could eat.”

Changbin pursed his lips, giving Jisung a long look of exasperation. “You’re insufferable sometimes. Let’s get going.”

“Where?” Jisung wondered. “You know I don’t have money, right? So if you’re paying –”

“Neither of us is paying,” Changbin huffed. “We’re going to Yellow Wood.”

“Oh.” Jisung worried at his lip as he considered this. “We’re going to… to eat there?”

Changbin gave him a secretive smile and inclined his head. “You coming or not?”

“I’m guessing,” Jisung frowned, “that I have to do something crazy like jump out of that window to get there.”

“Jisung,” Changbin shook his bangs out of his eyes, “unless you’re a cat, I don’t suggest jumping out of this window. How about we use the door instead?”

Jisung knitted his brows together, confused. “What door? I don’t see a –”

Changbin raised his hand, pointing at the wall beside Jisung.

“Oh. This door.” Jisung watched as the door formed before his eyes, like someone had drawn a curtain to reveal the dark wooden panels and metal hinges. 

“That door,” Changbin agreed.

The sun was warm on Jisung’s skin and he lifted his face, basking in the golden light. The woods were filled with the usual noises – birdsong, the buzz of insects, the whisper of wind, the rustling of leaves. It was a melody he could get lost in forever.

“This way,” Changbin directed over his shoulder. 

Jisung followed reluctantly, cautious as he wove between twisting tree branches and thick roots. It all looked the same to him, but Changbin seemed to know where he was going. “Do you live in this place?” Jisung asked, feeling as though it was the right time to ask.

“Sometimes,” Changbin answered, ducking beneath a branch. “Sometimes here. Sometimes there.”

Cryptic. Typical Changbin.

“And who else visits this place?” Jisung hoped to get a proper answer for this question, at least. 

“Whoever needs to.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. So much for that. He decided to hold off on the questions and just followed behind the man. Eventually, they stopped inside a little glade.

The sweet fragrance hit Jisung like a freight train and he found himself overwhelmed. The trees in the clearing all bore the fruit – a melding of orange, red and gold – like tiny replicas of the sun dangling from the branches. 

_ Peaches _ ! He realized, grinning in amazement. The trees in the glade were filled with them – ripe and ready to be eaten.

“Go ahead,” Changbin urged, reaching for the nearest one and plucking it off the tree. “They’re delicious. In season now.”

Jisung watched him carefully, warning bells ringing in his mind. “Is this – I mean – I… I don’t want to be poisoned or anything.”

“I assure you,” Changbin told him, the peach half an inch away from his mouth, “I am no evil witch, and you are most certainly no Snow White.”

Still on guard, Jisung watched Changbin chew on the fruit before succumbing to temptation and plucking one for himself. The taste was unlike anything Jisung had ever eaten. Succulent, bursting with honeyed sweetness, so delicious that he felt as though he was afloat. He’d give up pizza forever if he could have just one of these a day. 

Changbin plucked a few more, tossing them for Jisung to catch. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Jisung was sad to leave the orchard behind, but he knew he’d explode if he had to have more than three of the peaches. He walked alongside Changbin, taking in the natural beauty of the forest.

“It’s amazing out here,” he remarked.

Changbin nodded in agreement. “Always. Your world is so different – noisy, busy, cold even when the sun is up.”

Jisung had never thought of it that way.  _ Cold _ . He supposed it was, what with most people being too selfish to care for the needs of others, taking more than they need, leaving nothing for others, all that pain and the suffering. It really was a cold world. Still, there were a few good people. Was he one of them? He still had his doubts.

He lifted his gaze from the grass, surprised to see that they were passing a tall hedge. The vines grew thick and vast, and the tapered leaves were a bright green, dotted with golden brown flecks. “What’s behind this?” He wondered out loud, in awe of the enormity of the hedge. There had to be a reason for something like it to exist out there.

Changbin’s steps slowed and he came to a halt. When he looked at Jisung, his expression was grave, “The Heart of Yellow Wood, we call it.” He let out a heavy sigh, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “It’s filled with sorrow, pain and loneliness.”

Jisung cocked his head to the side, leaning against the hedge. “How poetic… So there’s something bad behind this thing?”

“Bad?” Changbin scrunched his nose. “No, not exactly. The Heart is an enclosure that houses any who would dare break the rules of Yellow Wood, any who dare to commit some kind of transgression. Humans can be selfish, greedy and irresponsible. We offer healing and they repay us with noncompliance.”

Jisung’s eyes widened and his mouth hung agape. “Are you saying it’s a kind of  _ prison _ ?” He stumbled away from the hedge, as though afraid it might suck him in and hold him prisoner. 

Changbin nodded, his features marked with a strange sorrow.

Jisung let out a low whistle as he studied the hedge. “So how many people are in there anyway?” He tried to peer through the vines but they were way too thick.

“Just one.”

“One?” Jisung arched an eyebrow. “A whole prison for  _ one _ person?”

“Jisung,” the man took a deep breath, “you’ve reached a point in your journey where there are several warnings you need to heed, things you need to remember. Rules. Laws of the land. Listen carefully. We don’t offer healing to many,” Changbin told him, chewing slowly on his mouthful of peachy goodness. “And most people that we offer it to, give us little trouble. But every century or so, you get that one person… Like this guy.” He indicated with a vague gesture to whoever was imprisoned in The Heart.

“So how long does he have to stay in there?”

“The Prisoner,” and Changbin said it like it was a title, “can only be freed if someone who is in good health and spirit agrees to take his place. Or, well, until death.”

Jisung shuddered. That was cruel. He imagined that only someone who loved The Prisoner very much would agree to take their place in The Heart. But how would The Prisoner feel about that? Knowing that a loved one sacrificed themselves for you, it would be like moving from one prison to the next – from a physical cage, to a mental cage constructed from guilt. 

“Not even I can help,” Changbin admitted. He looked skyward and closed his eyes. “Yellow Wood is born from a... a peculiar, sacred kind of magic, Jisung. The forest has a life of its own. It can be beautiful and healing, but cold and unforgiving to those who transgress.” There was a glimmer of a warning in Changbin’s gaze as it fixed on Jisung. 

“Those who transgress…” Jisung repeated the words softly. “So what exactly would be considered a transgression?”

“First and foremost, you are not to tell anyone of the existence of Yellow Wood.” Jisung shrugged – that seemed like an obvious rule. It’s not like anyone would believe him anyway. “And that goes for the people you visit in the past as well.” Changbin gave him a knowing look.

Jisung frowned, “So I can’t tell Minho.” That did complicate things…

Changbin nodded. “Thirdly, you cannot take anything but yourself into the past, and you cannot bring anything back with you.”

“So, say I wanted to bring a slice of cheesecake back from the past…”

Changbin shot him a derisive look that had Jisung shutting his mouth. “And the fourth rule… You cannot attempt to change the past.”

Jisung furrowed his brows. “So if I break any of those rules, I end up in The Heart?”

Changbin’s teeth grazed his lower lip. “Or worse.”

“Who are you, Changbin?” The question slipped from his lips. Changbin swallowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “And  _ what _ are you? How’d you find this place?” It appeared that Jisung could no longer contain his curiosity and the questions bubbled out of him like water from an overflowing bottle.

“I was born here,” Changbin said with a shrug. “I’m a guardian, a chaperon, an aide and a...” he pressed his lips into a hard line, apparently deciding that he’d said enough. “We should go back now.”

Both of them remained in silent contemplation as they walked back to the door, Jisung deep in thought about the poor prisoner, and Changbin… Well, who knew what Changbin thought about as his gaze swept their surroundings? Cryptic man. 

When Jisung stood in the threshold of the door, between the forest and the hospital room, he looked back at the man. “Are you not coming?”

“I have some work to do here. I’ll see you soon.”

Despite his curiosity, Jisung just nodded, offering him a smile. “Thanks for the peaches.”

“Thanks for the company.”

“Hey,” Jisung looked down at Minho. He had every right to be angry at Minho. But he found himself thinking of the forest, of The Heart and The Prisoner within it. Some poor fellow had made a mistake, and the forest had been unforgiving. Its punishment had been cruel.

Jisung shouldn’t –  _ wouldn’t _ – be that cruel. 

He straightened Minho’s bed covers, tucking him in properly. “The next time I see you, we’re going to have a talk about what you did.” There was no use blaming Minho for a mistake he didn’t even know he’d made.

“Seems like you’re quite fond of him.”

For that second time that day, Jisung shrieked in surprise, clutching a hand to his chest. “Come on, Johyuk,” he chided the policeman. “At least give me some kind of warning before you scare me to death.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Johyuk’s lips when he shrugged. “I’m not that scary.”

Jisung noticed that the beard he’d kept in a thin braid had grown longer. Somehow it made him slightly more menacing. And he became more aware of the man’s bulging arms that – even though Jisung considered himself fit – could probably crush him with a few blows. Yeah, he was scary. 

Johyuk turned to leave, but abruptly whirled around again, catching hold of Jisung’s wrist. He cocked his head to the side, his face expressionless. “I smell peaches.”

Jisung froze, confusion setting in as he tried to determine what exactly had made Johyuk so tense. “Yeah, I – I was hungry. I had a few peaches.”

“Did you like them?”

A strange question. His face was still unreadable and Jisung felt himself shudder. “They were,” he admitted, wondering why they were having a conversation about peaches.

“That’s good,” Johyuk’s lips spread into a slow smile and he released his grip. 

Jisung was glad to see the back of him. But even when he heard the distant shuttle of the elevator and Johyuk was long gone, he still felt chills.


	8. (Un)Balanced

“You know Won Johyuk, right?”

Seungmin looked up from his book. “The policeman who lives down the street? The one whose mother is a bit…” he twirled a finger next to his temple and grinned when Jisung shot him a don’t-be-rude look. “What? It’s true. They say she suddenly snapped one day. Stopped leaving the house, doesn’t like visitors. I mean, no one’s seen her outside in years.”

“Then how do they know she’s still… alive?”

“Because,” Seungmin shrugged, “Johyuk says so and there’s no reason to doubt him. He picks up her meds from the hospital and everything.”

“Huh,” Jisung huffed, and leaned back against the headboard. “I think he’s a bit strange.” For the past few days his last interaction with Johyuk had been playing on his mind. He hadn’t seen Johyuk at the hospital since then. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Changbin either. Three whole days. Jisung had been diligently working at the hospital but there’d been no magical entrances appearing and taking him into the past to see Minho, no matter how hard he wished.

“Actually,” Seungmin closed his book, brows furrowing into a deep V, “yesterday…”

“What?” Jisung straightened and narrowed his eyes. 

“I almost forgot,” Seungmin frowned, “but yesterday, I could’ve sworn I saw Johyuk on campus.”

“On your college campus?” Jisung was taken aback by this. As far as he knew, the college had their own security personnel. Why would a policeman be on campus?

Seungmin shrugged and reached for the honey and oat bar Jisung brought him. “I’m not really sure it was him. He wasn’t even in uniform. Maybe just a lookalike?”

And that still didn’t sit so well with Jisung. Call it a bad feeling or an overreaction from an overprotective brother, but for some reason, he didn’t want Johyuk anywhere near Seungmin. “You stay away from him,” he blurted. “He – he’s…”

“He’s what?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow when Jisung failed to finish his sentence. “He’s a policeman and I’m going to be a lawyer. I should be getting on the good side of law enforcement.”

“Yeah, well,” Jisung sighed, “I just don’t think Won Johyuk  _ is _ the good side of law enforcement.”  _ Or on the good side of anything, really _ . “Just promise me you’ll stay clear of him?”

Seungmin looked at him for a long second, gauging Jisung’s seriousness before nodding. “Fine. I promise.”

Jisung felt relieved, but only slightly. Had it really been Johyuk on campus? What could he have been doing there? Just visiting? Helping out with something? Investigating? There was another possibility Jisung was too afraid to even consider. 

That Johyuk had been keeping an eye on Seungmin.

Both brothers were startled out of their thoughts by the  _ tap, tap, tap _ on the window near the desk. Jisung gasped at the sight of the black furry creature peering at him through the glass with its yellow orbs. The cat.

“Oh, it’s your pet,” Seungmin chuckled, undoing the latch to let the cat in. Jisung didn’t even bother denying the assertion this time, seeing as the cat knew exactly where to find him. 

The cat hopped onto Seungmin’s desk, lithely weaving between books, somehow not managing to drop anything, and hopping onto the bed until it sat statuesque in front of Jisung. If Jisung was being honest, he’d missed the cat’s company. He hadn’t seen it since… Well, since the day he’d last been to the Yellow Wood. He knew it all added up somehow, but he was too afraid of the answer to do the math.

He knew from the cat’s glare that it wanted him to follow. And this time, he had no qualms. He would gladly follow if it took him back to Minho. He scooped up his jacket from the bed and said a hurried goodbye to Seungmin. The cat used the window as an exit, and Jisung was tempted to follow, but figured the front door would be a better fit for him.

But when he stepped outside, the cat was nowhere to be found. Crestfallen that he probably wasn’t going to see Minho that afternoon, he trudged down the garden path, dragging his feet like a sulky child. He turned onto the sidewalk and began strolling down the street when he stopped short at the sight of the man beside the stoplight. “Changbin?”

“Hi!” Changbin waved him over, a smile on his face. “How’ve you been?”

“Alright, I guess,” Jisung shrugged his shoulders, still surprised to see the man. He was dressed in jeans and a thick black coat even though the sun was up. “Aren’t you hot in that?”

Changbin’s eyes widened slightly and he ran a hand through his disheveled dark hair. “I spent the past few days freezing my ass off somewhere. I only just arrived back in town. And acclimatizing to the weather these past few hours has been… difficult.”

“Ah…” Jisung wondered where he’d been. From his experience, the Yellow Wood had always been warm. Perhaps there were other places, accessible to Changbin only. The possibility blew his mind. A whole other world co-existing with his own.

“Should we get going?” Changbin gave him a smug smile. “I know you probably want to see Minho again. I mean, I know you’ve been seeing him, but—”

“I’ve been seeing the comatose version, yeah,” Jisung grimaced. “Kind of looking forward to being able to talk to him again.”

Changbin nodded and patted his shoulder. “Come on then.”

Luckily, Jisung made it into the hospital and into Minho’s room without being stopped by any staff to run any errands or have a quick chat. He figured that at least a portion of that luck belonged to having Changbin at his side. People never seemed to pay attention to Jisung when Changbin was around. Almost like they were invisible. He’d given up trying to understand the extent of Changbin’s talents, or perhaps it would be more prudent to call it his… magic?

After making sure that Minho was tucked in nicely, he turned to Changbin. “So how are we getting there this time?”

Changbin’s answering grin was mischievous. “What’s your balance like?”

Jisung stared. “Zero.”

“Really?” Changbin rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about your  _ bank _ balance. I mean… your equilibrium, how well you can balance on your feet.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighed, “ _ both _ types of balance  _ are _ actually zero.”

“Understood,” Changbin laughed. “I can’t do much for your bank balance, but…”

“But what?” Jisung raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I discovered,” Changbin said as he opened the window, “that the key to a good sense of balance on your feet is…” he placed both hands on the window ledge and leaned over, “…practice.”

Jisung hesitantly shuffled forward, trying to get a glimpse of what had commandeered Changbin’s attention below. “What are you looking a—”Clouds of pink and lavender rolled across the azure sky. The smog and dusty grey rain clouds had disappeared. Standing at Changbin’s side and peering over the ledge, Jisung saw with a start that there were endless tufts of clouds billowing below them.

The hustle and bustle of the town – and the town itself – was nowhere to be seen. Instead, from below, sprouted several long, willowy tree trunks. Their branches extended across the sky, and far into the distance, the ends touching to create what almost looked like a bridge. Jisung could already feel his stomach tying itself into knots.

“Changbin, please don’t tell me—”

“And what better way to practice than to use nature’s offerings?”

“I am not climbing out of this window,” Jisung argued, shaking his head in refusal. “And I am most definitely not going to be climbing up any trees.”

“Technically,” Changbin said, already swinging a leg over the ledge, “you’re walking across the trees. As simple as walking across any bridge. Just a really narrow bridge. Really, really narrow.”

“Yeah, you’re not really helping,” Jisung muttered, gauging the distance of the drop onto the nearest branch. He’d just have to swing his legs over and he’d be on the first branch. “Who even comes up with these things?” He eyed Changbin speculatively.

“Hey,” Changbin held up his hands, palms up. “I’m the guide, not the creator. Although, I’ll admit, this is a lot of fun for me.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Jisung rolled his eyes. Changbin seemed so lithe and confident on his feet. It was as if he was on solid ground and not on a thin tree branch. Jisung didn’t even want to compare his clumsy ass to Changbin.

“I’m really not sure about this.”

Changbin paused on the middle of a branch and looked over his shoulder, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jisung. I promise.”

Maybe it was Changbin’s reassuring smile, or the fact that until then, he really  _ hadn’t _ let anything happen to Jisung, maybe it was just the sense of comfort that washed over him when they were together, but Jisung found himself stepping – rather awkwardly – onto the first tree branch. 

He placed one foot down first, testing his weight on the branch, and after summoning a burst of courage, the other foot followed. But for the life of him, he could not get the rest of his body to comply and he now sat at on the window ledge, his hands white-knuckled from gripping the sides, wondering what to do from there.

Changbin had turned around, his stare holding one part concern, one part amusement. “Are you… stuck?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jisung nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kinda. I guess, yeah.”

“Alright, just hold on.” Changbin began to walk across to him, expertly placing one foot in front of the other as if he was off on a morning stroll. His gait never faltered and Jisung was sure he’d never seen someone so sure on their feet before. “Give me your hand. I’ll help you along.”

Jisung stiffly shook his head, afraid that just the slightest movement would send him plummeting to his end. He didn’t dare look at the clouds below, choosing instead to focus on Changbin’s extended hand. “Can’t,” he said, trying to move his lips as little as possible, as if the act of speaking was going to harm him.

Changbin made a small, frustrated noise, or it might’ve been a laugh too, Jisung couldn’t tell. He gasped in surprise when he felt Changbin’s cold fingers close around his own, trying to pry them away from the ledge. “Let’s just get you to stand on two feet first, okay?”

Jisung nodded his assent and let Changbin take his hand into his own, panic beginning to bloom in his chest as he felt Changbin try to pry the other hand off the ledge. “Hey, stop that!” he began to swat Changbin’s hand away, and in the process released his grip on the ledge. Of course Changbin took advantage of that, and with both of Jisung’s hands gripped firmly in his, he hauled the trembling young man to his feet. 

“Now,” Changbin said gently, “let’s take baby steps—” 

“No.”

“Jisung, let’s just—”

“No.”

“Tiny step—”

“No.”

“Jis—”

“No.”

With each failed attempt to help Jisung across, and the increasingly sour expression on Jisung’s face, it was no surprise when Changbin’s shoulders drooped and he let out a defeated sigh. Jisung looked at Changbin hopefully, wishing he was going to magically swish them away.

“Alright. Hop on.”

Jisung’s eyes darted around as if he expected to see a cable car traveling towards them. Finally, his gaze settled on Changbin’s scowling face. “Hop on where?”

Changbin nimbly spun around, his back facing Jisung. “My back.” Jisung was about to decline the offer when the man added, “I’ll probably get into a whole bucket load of trouble for it if anyone finds out, but uh… I’m doing you a favor.”

Jisung worried at his lower lip. If he wanted to see Minho, he didn’t have a choice. “Fine.” He gripped Changbin’s shoulders, surprised at how easily he was hoisted up. He hadn’t taken note of just how strong Changbin was before. He clung on for dear life and screwed his eyes shut as Changbin trudged forward. 

“Just so you know,” Jisung muttered, “I still wouldn’t date you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Changbin replied easily. “You’d never date someone so out of your league.”

Bristling, Jisung was about to dig his knees into Changbin’s sides but then remembered that his life was literally in Changbin’s hands. He settled for a loud scoff instead.

They reached the end of the tree branch trail in a matter of minutes. Jisung knew that if he’d taken baby steps like Changbin had wanted him to, they would’ve still been on the first branch. The last tree branch tapered and lowered onto…

“Are you serious?” Jisung’s jaw hung open. He looked back at the disparity between the busy street and the seemingly endless clouds and trees behind him. He tapped his foot on the concrete sidewalk to make sure it wasn’t some kind of trick, and when he looked back, the clouds were already a fading picture.

Jisung looked for Changbin but the man was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged and once he took a few more steps down the sidewalk, he felt the chill in the air. And around him – oh wow – it was a Winter wonderland! The pavements were covered with snow, and pools of glistening water where mounds of snow and had begun to melt beneath the sunlight. The sky was a deep blue with several trusses of white cloud-cover. The atmosphere brought a smile to Jisung’s face.

But the moment was short-lived when a passerby bumped into him. And then another. Jisung rubbed his shoulder, moving out of the way to give room to the passing shoppers. He noted with a start, the holly decorating the front doors, the colorful fairy light displays, the Christmas carols blasting from store speakers. And why not? It seemed as though he’d been dropped into the December Christmas rush! He could tell people were in a hurry doing their last minute Christmas shopping. And when he saw the sign just across the street _ , ‘Richmond Shopping Centre’ _ he realized why he’d been left there.

Minho had been off to medical school the last time Jisung saw him. And as far as Jisung knew, the most prominent medical school in the country was situated in Richmond. Minho must be somewhere around! But how to find him? He didn’t exactly have a map.

Now, instead of walking aimlessly, Jisung had to carefully scan each face. He glanced through shop windows, stopping every now and then to turn on the spot and survey the area around him. After several minutes of futile searching, Jisung found himself pressed into a street corner. This was hopeless. He scratched his head, exclaiming in surprise at how long his hair was. He checked his reflection in the window of the bookstore just behind him. 

And holy shit!

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jisung began to curse as he surveyed his reflection in the shop window. His hair left loose, grazing his collar. But that wasn’t the bad part. He looked like a – a  _ carrot _ . Why was his hair so orange? He remembered with a flush of embarrassment that nineteen year old Jisung, the idiot, had thought it would be attractive. Why had he ever thought that would be appealing? And why would he wear all black – black slacks, black hoodie, black t-shirt, black shoes – during the festive season? He looked like a… Like a thief.

Oh. Because that’s what he was! He’d probably been on his way to steal something. Of course broad daylight had never stopped him.

He also took the time to question the point of wearing all black to break in somewhere when his hair was as striking as the flaming Olympic torch. Well, at least he could take comfort in the fact that the dress sense of twenty four year old Jisung was a pretty great compared to that of nineteen year old Jisung.

He was about to turn around again, when he saw him. Just  _ there _ . Only the thin sheet of glass separated them. “Minho…” Jisung whispered, his jaw hanging. Minho was definitely one of those people who became progressively good looking as they got older. Because he was gorgeous, more than before. 

Minho stood beside a bookshelf, his gaze sweeping the back cover of a book. His bulky teal coat enveloped him, making him look even smaller in comparison to the man beside him. Jisung’s heart sank at the sight of their intertwined hands. And of course Minho would still be dating  _ that _ guy what’s-his-name. Jisung had expected them to break up at some point in the past few years. Actually, he’d hoped for it. But what’s-his-name was good looking, had money, probably belonged to all the right circles, and had the perfect life – why would Minho want to break up with all of that? Jisung’s chest tightened and he automatically began to back away, but was pushed forward again by the people walking by. 

Why was he here? Why would he be brought back to this moment? He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to see Minho with someone else. This was… torture. It was cruel! He pivoted, jealousy and anger encouraging him to leave, but he’d only made it through to the other end of the sidewalk before fingers closed around his wrist, keeping him in place. 

“Changbin?” Jisung furrowed his brows. “You’re still here. I didn’t think… I mean, you usually just come by when time is up but we just got here – not that I wanted to stay – but it’s just weird how you pop up sometimes—”

“Stop babbling,” Changbin grimaced, his arms crossed. “Or else, I’ll just leave again.”

Jisung considered this. “So are you here to take me back?”

Changbin shook his head. “You’re supposed to be in there,” he gestured to the bookstore. “With them.”

“Yeah, no, not happening,” Jisung shook his head, adamant that he wasn’t sticking around for this. He fixed Changbin with a hard stare, “Do you think it’s funny sending me in there? Is this a joke to you?”

“Am I laughing? You’re supposed to learn from this!” Changbin raised his voice an octave, clearly frustrated. “Both you and Minho. But you obviously have a hard time doing what you’re supposed to do.”

Jisung rolled his eyes in response. Definitely wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and it didn’t bother him in the slightest. “So, we going back now or…?”

Changbin scowled. “I can’t just go and come whenever I please. We have to wait.”

“Cool,” Jisung nodded, pointedly looking anywhere besides the bookstore. “Can we go see a movie or something?”

“A movie?” Changbin raised a brow. “We absolutely cannot go to see a move… but how about coffee instead?” He turned around, swift strides taking him across the street. Jisung suppressed a grin and dashed after him, struggling to keep up. 

The café Changbin chose was one of the less busy ones, probably because of the limited menu. But Jisung was just glad to have a barrier between him and the crisp air outside. The smell of coffee and pastries warmed him from the inside out. “Americano and a bagel,” he said, nudging Changbin with his elbow.

Changbin shot him a glare but added the order to his own – a cappuccino and a donut. Jisung left him to pay and found a table as far from the window as possible, so he wouldn’t be tempted to look for Minho. It was an awful feeling, really. He was here  _ for _ Minho, but he wasn’t  _ with _ Minho. 

“You’re going to get into trouble,” Changbin muttered, sitting across from him. “Both of us are. You’re… upsetting the balance of everything.”

“Balance?” Jisung’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, his interest piqued. “What balance?”

Changbin eyed him with distaste. “You’re asking too many questions.”

Jisung watched as Changbin shrugged off his coat, and he narrowed his eyes, wondering, “When you said you’ve been somewhere cold, did you mean this place?”

Changbin stared at him for a moment, hesitating, and then shook his head. “No, somewhere else. Somewhere colder. Eat your bagel,” he ordered, probably in the hopes that Jisung wouldn’t ask any more questions.

But Jisung wasn’t so easily distracted. “Was it a vacation?”

Changbin sighed deeply before launching into a rebuke, “Jisung, it’s none of your business. You’re not listening to me. We’re both going to get into trouble if you keep—”

“I’m just curious about how it all works,” Jisung mumbled through his mouthful. 

“Do you know what’s more annoying than you?”

Jisung cocked his head to the side. “What’s more annoying than me?” he humored Changbin. 

“Absolutely nothing.” Changbin grinned, pleased with himself.

“That was so lame,” Jisung had to roll his eyes.

“Eat your bagel.”

Deciding to give Changbin a temporary break, Jisung took another bite of his bagel. He was almost done when Changbin rose from his chair and gestured towards the door. “Come on. Time’s up.”

“How’d you even know?” Jisung huffed out a sigh when Changbin ignored the question. The man was already striding towards the door. Jisung stuffed the remnants of the bagel into his mouth. Wasting food was a no-no. 

They’d made it a few blocks down the street when Jisung’s eyes widened, “Wait. Are we – do we have to climb trees again?”

Changbin ignored him, only stopping when they reached the spot they’d entered through. The street was still busy, but this time no one bumped into them. “Just through here,” Changbin said, and Jisung gave a sigh of relief when a door materialized in mid-air, each piece fitting together like a puzzle being solved by invisible hands.

“No trees!” he pumped his fist in joy. He belatedly noted that the fact that there was door hovering in the air and it hadn’t shocked him one bit. Yes, this was his life now. 

“Well, go on then,” Changbin glowered at him. “It’ll take you straight into the hospital.” 

“You’re not coming?”

Changbin gave a quick shake of the head, and nodded towards the door, “Go on. And one more thing.” Jisung waited attentively. “One thing you need to remember when you go back. Minho’s boyfriend—”

“Ah, I don’t want to know anything about what’s-his-name,” Jisung waved Changbin away and wrenched open the door.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Changbin said, before he could step through. “Remember that.”

Jisung knitted his brows together. “Remember his name? But why—”

“Just go,” Changbin encouraged. “And remember it. Use it.”

But Jisung was confused. What was he supposed to do with the name?

  
  
  



	9. The Whisperers’ Well

Jisung scrambled into Chan’s shop at the speed of light, only halting when he saw that Chan was finishing up with a customer. He tapped his foot impatiently, chewing on his nails as he waited for Chan’s attention.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Chan asked when his customer departed with a box full of spare computer parts. He flopped down onto his chair and Jisung took his usual spot on the desk, legs swinging back and forth.

“I need you to do another google search for me.”

Chan sighed, giving Jisung an exasperated look, but turned to his computer despite himself. “So who is it this time?”

“Hwang Hyunjin.” Jisung peered over Chan’s shoulder, hardly daring to breath as he wondered what they would find. “News articles,” he directed Chan. “Search for those.”

And it took only a few clicks for an array of articles to appear, every headline bearing the word, ‘Missing’. Jisung raised a shaky hand and pointed to an article from a reliable news site. “That one.”

_ Police officials express confusion over a rescue team’s inability to locate a young man, Hwang Hyunjin, 22, who had been onboard the Atlas Express after it derailed on March 7 _ _ th _ _ 2018\. There are reports that Hwang was among those severely injured and had been rushed to hospital. However, after consulting every hospital in the city, it was discovered that Hwang had not been admitted into any of them. Hwang remains missing. _

A train accident… And that was just two years ago! There were several other articles since then, all short reports stating that Hyunjin had not yet been found. Jisung rocked back on his heels, completely taken aback by this turn of events. Minho had probably been devastated. He wondered what could have happened to Hyunjin. If he’d been injured and taken to hospital…  _ Hospital _ . According to the articles, they’d checked every hospital. But maybe…

His eyes widened, “I gotta run.”

“Wait,” Chan frowned, just about managing to catch the end of Jisung’s sleeve. “This is all very…” he glanced at the article. “It’s all too strange. A missing person… I hope you’re not getting mixed up in anything you can’t come back from.”

Jisung sighed, giving him a grim smile. “I think it may already be too late.”

Jisung rushed up the stone stairs that led into the hospital, taking them two at a time. He’d almost reached the door when he was wrenched back by his collar. He gasped, and turned to face his attacker. Changbin? He stopped struggling and furrowed his brows in question.

“You can’t,” Changbin whispered, his darkly lined eyes piercing. “You can’t ask them about him.”

Jisung frowned, “So Hyunjin  _ was _ brought here then! What the hell happened here, Changbin?”

“He…” The dark haired man clenched his jaw, as if it was a struggle to keep speaking. “I can’t tell you. But you can’t go ahead and ask anyone at the hospital either. You need to get into the archive room. First floor, turn into third hallway and you’ll find it. Make sure no one sees you.”

“But Changbin,” Jisung protested, “why can’t you just—”

“Because I’ve done enough,” Changbin loosened his grip. His eyes had a haunted look and his features were set in a painful grimace. “I can’t do anymore. But you can. Please, Jisung.” And he pressed his lips to Jisung’s ear, whispering so softly that Jisung might have imagined it. “Help him, please.”

Although Felix was the only doctor Jisung was on friendly terms with, he knew the other staff at Yellow Wood were familiar with his face. So no one batted an eyelash when Jisung wove between white coats, trying to look casual as walked along the first floor. He loitered a bit when he reached the third hallway that branched off to the left, and when no one was looking, he ducked into the narrow space. There was just one door at the very end of the hallway. He twisted the shiny brown doorknob and entered.

He stood on the threshold, gaping. “You’re kidding,” he muttered. “Did no one tell them how an electronic file system works?” Honestly, Chan could’ve hooked them up with something. 

It wasn’t just a room – it was a tower that extended so far up, that Jisung couldn’t see the ceiling. He squinted up at the bright light that illuminated the contents of the black stone tower. A narrow set of stairs extended from the walls, spiraling upwards. And built into the walls were alcoves, each bearing rolled up sheets of parchment. Parchment! Scrolls! Were these people still living in the Stone Age or something?

Jisung scrunched his nose at the damp, musty smell. It was almost overwhelming, and his head began to spin as soon as he stepped onto the first chipped stone stair. He had no idea how he was supposed to locate anything. Changbin really should have given him a heads up about this.

Pausing on the second stair, he realized his biggest problem. There was nothing to hold on to except the walls. And if he fell, the result wouldn’t be pleasant. There was nothing to cushion his fall. He swallowed hard and thought about turning back, but…

_ Help him, please. _

Changbin had sounded desperate, almost distraught. And if Jisung really was the only one who could help…

He carefully placed his foot on each stair, around ten feet from the ground before he reached the first alcove. He began to rummage through the scrolls, unfolding each slightly so he could see the names scribbled at the top. The scrolls in the first alcove all had last names beginning with A. That meant that there was a system. And H would be somewhere far up. He gulped and continued. He would do his best to not look down.

And then he heard it. It really could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn he heard a trickle of water. He pressed an ear to the wall, and when he heard the faint murmur of voices, his eyes widened. But it was probably from the other hospital rooms. Right? He consoled himself and moved on. But he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. 

When he reached the C alcoves, it became increasingly difficult to resist looking down. He desperately wanted to know how far up he’d climbed. But he knew that if he looked, he’d become light-headed. Hell, he was already slightly dizzy. And going a bit crazy too. Because he kept hearing water, and then those overlapping whispers. The more he tried to decipher their words, the more hurried and difficult to discern they became. It was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous.

He stopped to catch his breath, panting as he leaned against the wall. He shut his eyes, determined not to look down. And then he plowed on. He didn’t stop to listen to the voices, nor did he stop to acknowledge that it was getting much warmer. His clothes were plastered to his body with sweat, and his hair was drenched too.

By the time he reached the H alcoves, his legs were unbearably sore and ready to give way. He searched each alcove maniacally until he found it. He read ‘Hwang Hyunjin’ twice before he stuffed the scroll into his jacket pocket. He turned on his heel, ready to leave until a murmured word, just above a whisper, caught his attention.

_ Thief _ .

He could hear them now. The other whisperers. Their words untangled so that he could hear them clearly.

_ Thief. _

_ There is a thief. _

_ Stop the thief. _

Jisung gasped, and decided he had no time left to waste. He started down the stairs, this time forced to look at how far he’d come. And oh shit, he really was high up. He pressed his back flat against the wall, gripped by vertigo. Slowly, he glanced at the floor again. But… It looked distorted somehow, a sliver of light cutting through the door.

When he heard the trickle of water again, and when it ceased to stop, and with each  _ drip, drip, drip, drip _ , it dawned on him; it all looked distorted because the floor was covered in water. Water that was steadily rising. Somehow, the scrolls remained within their alcoves despite the steady rise of water. 

Jisung’s chest rose and fell with twisted panic. The water level had risen to a few feet above the doorway now. If he crouched and leaned over he’d be able to skim his fingertips over the water. The door was too far away and there was no way he’d be able to breathe underwater that long. The only thing to do was move further up. But what then? He’d be trapped either way.

He squinted up at the ceiling, at the bright light. He was high up enough to see spots of blue paint on the ceiling. Or… Could it really be…? Despite his aching joints, he began climb the stairs again, hoping against hope that he wasn’t wrong.

With every step he took, the whispers appeared to grow in volume.  _ Thief, thief, catch the thief. _ The water was rising at a frightening pace too. And Jisung wasn’t sure he’d able to outrun it.

He looked up and his hope flared. It was close enough to see now. The patch of blue sky and blindingly bright sun. But he still needed a way to get to the top. The stairs would end soon, leaving him with at least twenty feet of bare wall to climb. 

He paused, eyes darting around, looking for a way to haul himself up. And in that short moment, Jisung was knocked off his feet. Large bursts of water sprayed through fissures in the walls, and Jisung found himself hurtling painfully down the stairs. He managed to dig his fingers into one of the alcoves, and although he could feel the bite of stone against the pads of his fingers, he held on.

He pulled himself to his feet, panting as the water rose above his chest. The weight of the water made ascending too difficult and he kicked and flailed, trying to escape the current. He swallowed a mouthful of water when something brushed against his arm. But it wasn’t some creature out to swallow him whole. It was a thick red vine that had been extended down to him.

He held on to the vine for dear life, pulling himself up, and feeling some weight on the other end help pull him up. Now and then he would catch a cold spray of water as more fissures opened up, but he couldn’t feel anything more. He was already cold and shivering, as if ice had crept into his bones.

The whispers were now urgent, almost graduating into shrieks.  _ Thief, thief, catch the THIEF.  _ Their voices were filled with malice and fury. He was a thief and he was escaping.

The swells of water below seemed to rise and fall like hands reaching for him. And looking down at the water eddying below him, Jisung recognized the archive room for what it really was – a gigantic well. And he’d bet anything that the well was built inside the Yellow Wood forest.

When he was close enough to reach the rim of the well, Jisung grit his teeth and clambered out, flopping onto lush green grass with a loud groan. His body ached, he was exhausted and he wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep.

“Are you okay?”

With some effort, Jisung sat up, fixing his glare on Changbin. “Do I look okay to you?”

Changbin stood stoically, his face set in worry. “I’m sorry—”

“Did you know?” Jisung demanded, refusing the hand that Changbin extended to him. He used the rim of the well to pull himself to his feet. “Did you know what would happen down there?”

Changbin looked away, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s called The Whisperers’ Well of Records. The Whisperers keep a record of all those who enter Yellow Wood. They – they take security seriously.” His guilty gaze lingered on Jisung for a second before flicking away. “At least I got you out.”

“At least you got me out?” Jisung stared in disbelief and then strode purposefully towards Changbin, shoving him back. “You bastard! You sent me down there knowing I could die!”

Changbin pursed his lips, looking Jisung in the eye. “I’m sorry but this was the only way.”

“Alright,” Jisung nodded, his jaw clenched. “Tell me how to get out of here. I want to go home.”

“Jisung, please just—”

“I want to go home, Changbin,” Jisung said slowly, threateningly. He was done playing these games.

Changbin jerked his head towards a thicket of trees and the oak door enclosed within them. “You can go, but I suggest you dry off in the sun first. No one at the hospital should take special notice of you.”

Jisung glanced into the well, unsurprised that not a drop of water remained. “Won’t there be some kind of… I dunno – a search for the thief who escaped?”

Changbin nodded gravely. “The Whisperers will need time to discern what was taken. And when they do, it will be me they report to. I’ll delay the hunt and hinder their efforts however I can.”

“Delay the hunt?” Jisung gawked at him, his arms folded as his eyes bulged out of their sockets. “ _ Delay _ ? Not stop?”

“It will be difficult—”

“I don’t care!” Jisung yelled, and a flock of birds took off in flight, their wings battering the leaves. “You did this, Changbin! You made me do this! You! If anything happens to me, I swear, I’ll kill you!” Unbidden, a worse thought entered his mind. What if they harmed his family?

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Changbin frowned, his chin up. “I didn’t force you.”

Jisung shook his head in disbelief. “I’m going to be hunted like some kind of animal and it’s your fault. My family may even be in danger! And for what? For this stupid piece of paper?” He ripped the scroll from his back pocket. Of course it was completely dry, unblemished as if he’d only just now pulled it out of an alcove. Jisung flung it on the ground between them.

“Jisung, wait. You need to read that,” Changbin’s brows lifted in concern.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jisung spat, feeling a burgeoning rage that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “I don’t need to do anything for you anymore.” He started towards the door.

“If not for me, then for Minho.”

Jisung stopped, his breath catching. His eyes fluttered closed. He hated Changbin. He hated him so much, he was contemplating murder for the first time in his life. He’d known exactly how to trap Jisung.

He turned on his heel, wet sneakers squelching on the grass as he marched towards Changbin. He snatched the scroll from Changbin’s outstretched hand and stared at the rolled up scrap of paper. “Will this help me understand the reason why Minho tried to—” he couldn’t even say it. “Will this help Minho in any way?”

Changbin cocked his head to the side contemplatively in a way that made Jisung want to punch him. “Partly.”

Jisung looked away, mouth twisting into a frown. “How do I know that after I read whatever the hell this is, you won’t send me back to some well with people living in the walls? Or something worse.” How could he trust Changbin again?

Changbin shook his head, “You won’t be visiting that well again.”

Jisung was quick to notice how he hadn’t acknowledged the ‘Or something worse’. Great. Just great. How much more would he have to endure? What next? Fire-breathing dragons and sea monsters? “I think I liked you before,” he admitted with a nod, and Changbin’s brows disappeared beneath his bangs. “I thought we were friends.”

“Jisung—”

“But you’re a selfish bastard. Not just selfish. You’re cruel too. And I doubt that there’s anyone I hate more than I hate you.” They sounded like the ramblings of a petulant child, but Jisung meant every word.

Changbin huffed out a sigh, as if he was the one being put in an impossible situation. “We don’t have to like each other. We just need to help each other,” his voice didn’t just lack warmth; it was void of any emotion at all.

“Yeah, let’s not pretend that I’m benefiting from this,” Jisung muttered, unrolling the parchment.

_ Name: Hwang Hyunjin _

_ Reason for selection: Selfishness, Vanity, Shallowness, Spendthrift _

_ Journey: A Life in Another’s Shoes  _

_ Progress: Incomplete (Unforgivable Violation of Rules) _

_ Sentence: Life Imprisonment in The Heart _


	10. The Thing About Younger Brothers...

“So what happened to Hyunjin?”

Jisung and Changbin were back in Minho’s hospital room, glaring at each other from where they both perched at the edge of opposite beds. Honestly if it wasn’t for Minho, Jisung wouldn’t have bothered with this at all.

“You read the piece of parchment,” Changbin shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t tell you anymore than that.”

Frustrated, Jisung looked down at the parchment. “Alright, if you can’t tell me about Hyunjin. At least explain the other stuff. Reason for selection. What’s that all about?”

Changbin nodded, his arms folded across his chest. “We carefully select those who enter Yellow Wood – the hospital and the forest – so that not just anyone is given the opportunity.”  _ Opportunity? _ Jisung resisted the urge to snort out a laugh. “Doctors are selected for their skills and passion. Volunteers, like yourself, and patients like Minho, are selected based on what they need to remedy. Sometimes it’s a broken heart, sometimes it’s a broken spirit, sometimes people need help moving on from losing a loved one, sometimes they just need to find a new direction in life. We assist with that by allowing access into Yellow Wood.”

“So you people just play God when you feel like it,” Jisung pursed his lips, feeling his anger begin to flare again. How many people out there had been overlooked while they – whoever the hell  _ they _ are –  _ carefully selected _ the people they wanted to help?

Changbin clenched his jaw, “Anything else?”

“Journey,” Jisung read. “What does that mean?”

Changbin nodded, approving of the question. “Every person’s journey in Yellow Wood is unique. Sometimes they get to travel back in time, reliving their childhood. Sometimes they get to go back to specific moments in their lives. Sometimes they get to visit specific moments from the lives of others’. Sometimes they are given the opportunity to see how things would have unfolded if they made different decisions. Whatever the journey, there is an important lesson to be learned.”

Jisung glanced back at Minho, still in his peaceful, deep slumber. “Does that mean that Minho…?” he raised an eyebrow at Changbin who nodded.

“Yes, Minho is on his own special journey right now.”

Jisung wondered where he was, what he was experiencing, what he was supposedly learning. And whether he was going to come back soon.

Changbin cleared his throat, drawing Jisung’s attention again. Jisung rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what else to ask you. It’s not like you’re going to tell me anything about Hyunjin.”

Changbin’s teeth grazed his lower lip, “Wanna visit Minho?”

Jisung stared in surprise. “What? Is that supposed to be my consolation?”

“If you don’t want to…”

“Of course I want to – oh, hold on.” Jisung’s phone had begun to buzz in pocket. 

Seungmin.

Jisung answered immediately. “Minnie, what’s up?”

Seungmin’s ragged breaths told Jisung that all was not well. “Sung can you come by the house? I – I found out some stuff. About Officer Johyuk.”

Jisung blinked in surprise. Whatever Seungmin found had to be serious or he wouldn’t sound so panicked. “Sure, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and gave Changbin a shrug. “Maybe I can visit Minho later. My brother needs me.”

“Is something wrong?” Changbin pressed away from the bed, eyes wide with concern.

Jisung scowled. “It’s really none of your business. The last thing I want is for my brother to get mixed up in this all this shit.”

Seungmin paced the room the way he always did when he was nervous about something – usually an upcoming exam. Today, Jisung waited to hear the source of his worry.

“I was just curious, you know,” Seungmin came to halt, fingers threading through his dark hair.

“Curious about what?” Jisung arched a brow, sitting cross-legged on the bed. He really hoped Seungmin was overreacting, because whatever this was, it seemed… major.

“Officer Johyuk.”

Oh no. Jisung pressed a hand to his forehead. “Seungmin, what did you do? You didn’t speak to the man, did you?”

“Of course not,” Seungmin huffed, but his cheeks were growing a light shade of red. “But I saw him on campus again, outside one of my lecture rooms. So maybe I uh… Maybe I broke into his house.”

A noise burst from Jisung’s mouth, something halfway between a shriek and a whine. “You – you did – you  _ what _ ?” He didn’t know what shocked him more – the fact that Seungmin had broken into a house or the fact that Seungmin had broken into Johyuk’s house.

“So anyway,” Seungmin seemed intent on moving on, “Sung, there’s something weird as fuck – shit, sorry, I meant something  _ weird as hell  _ – going on.”

Jisung rubbed his temples, his head spinning. Seungmin broke into a house. Seungmin broke into Johyuk’s house. Seungmin said ‘fuck’.

Fuck…

“Jisung, are you listening?”

Jisung’s eyes widened and he nodded, trying to compose himself. Something weird going on. Yes. Right. “What did you find?” After breaking into the house…

“The house was empty.”

“Empty?” Jisung furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? His mother lives there right? Mrs Won?” Although the old woman hadn’t been seen in years, it was well known in the community that she wasn’t well, and couldn’t leave her bed. She didn’t want visitors either. Alright, maybe that was a bit suspicious…

“No furniture,” Seungmin shrugged. “Nothing. Just empty rooms.”

“But…” Jisung struggled to understand. “I’ve seen Johyuk going to that house with my own eyes. That doesn’t make sense.” 

Seungmin shrugged. “I know, right? And that’s not even the strangest part. Later when I followed Officer Johyuk to the house—”

“You did  _ what _ ?” Jisung clenched fistfuls of his hair between his fingers. If his head was spinning before, now it felt as if it was going to fall off. Seungmin followed Johyuk. And that was after breaking into his house. 

“Don’t veer off topic, Sung,” Seungmin berated him, although the flush remained in his cheeks. Jisung gawked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “I followed him. I saw him enter the house, there was a dim yellow light, and then he just—” he snapped his fingers, “vanished.”

_ …a dim yellow light… then he just vanished. _

Jisung straightened, his throat feeling dry, his chest constricting. Could Johyuk be associated with Yellow Wood? He didn’t want it to be true, but Seungmin’s description… And then, Johyuk had been the one to have Jisung do his community service at the hospital. Was it all connected?

“Listen to me,” Jisung pushed to his feet, and placed his hands on Seungmin’s shoulders. “Seungmin, please, I don’t want you going anywhere near Johyuk. I don’t want you breaking into his house – I don’t want you breaking into  _ any _ house, but that’s a discussion for another time. You’re going to study, you’re going to become a lawyer and you’re going to get a great job. You’re going to earn lots of money, and then you’re going to live in a lovely house in a city that’s far, far away from Veronia. Do you understand?”

Seungmin stared at him for a long moment, “I really like living in Veronia.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Jisung snapped. The further away Seungmin got from this place, the better off he’d be.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Because it seems like you know a whole lot that I don’t know.”

“And it’s better that way,” Jisung pulled him in for a hug. “I got myself into a mess,” he whispered. “And I refuse to pull you in with me.”

He broke away and headed for the door. He needed to find Changbin. He stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at the black cat sitting in the doorway, its tale swishing, yellow eyes unblinking. The Yellow Wood cat. Jisung scowled as Seungmin offered the cat a cracker which it pointedly ignored. He placed an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders, moving him away from the cat. He didn’t trust anything associated with Yellow Wood anymore.

“You’ll be careful, right?” Seungmin asked as Jisung stepped over the cat. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to be careful.”

Jisung forced a smile, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, little brother.”

“If something happens to you,” Seungmin clenched his jaw, “I – I…” he shook his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

This time Jisung didn’t have to force a smile – it appeared naturally. He sighed and shook his head. In all honesty, neither of them knew Seungmin’s real age, but he’d always been Jisung’s ‘little brother’. Nothing could change that. He could still recall those tear-filled, scared eyes that widened when Jisung had found him abandoned like a stray at the church. He never wanted Seungmin to go through that pain again, or to feel such fear again. 

“Promise me you’ll stay away from Johyuk?”

Seungmin nodded, scratching the back of his head. “Okay, promise.”

But he didn’t sound too convincing. “Minnie…”

“I said I’ll stay away,” Seungmin scowled. “Now I have to study so… go.”

Jisung considered remaining where he was and not leaving Seungmin’s side until he absolutely had to. But he needed to sort this mess out. “I’ll be back.”

With the cat weaving between his legs, Jisung headed for Minho’s hospital room, hoping that Changbin was still around. He wondered where Changbin went when he wasn’t putting Jisung’s life in peril.

With a gasp, Jisung stopped in his tracks. Changbin wasn’t in the room, but Officer Johyuk was. 

The man’s lips curved into a sly smile as his gaze shifted from Jisung to the cat that had gone deathly still, hackles raised. Johyuk dropped to a crouch before the cat and Jisung watched as the cat hissed, baring its teeth. The man didn’t seem intimidated. He cocked his head to the side, his dark eyes meeting those fierce yellow orbs. “Such a sweet cat,” Johyuk whispered, his tone more menacing than the impassivity of his face let on. 

He pushed to his feet and towered over Jisung, his braided beard swaying over his chest. “Shirking on your duties, Jisung?” he clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

“I had a family emergency,” Jisung countered. “I don’t think Felix would have minded.”

“Felix isn’t the one who arrested you.”

Jisung clenched his jaw. Ordinarily, he would have responded with something snarky. But he didn’t know this man – and whether he was a man at all. It seemed strange now. Was the uniform and the show of law enforcement just a façade?

“I’m sorry,” Jisung replied, although he had to force the words from his mouth. 

Johyuk hummed, and cocked his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips. “A family emergency, you said. Is everything alright? Is… your brother alright?”

There was a heavy implication behind his words that made Jisung clench his trembling fingers into fists. “He’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t wanted to drag Seungmin into this, but was it already too late?

“He’s a lot like you,” Johyuk’s eyes narrowed into slits as he smiled from ear to ear. “Two peas in a pod. I thought he’d turn out different.” He clicked his tongue, “It’s disappointing.”

Jisung broke into a sweat, “He’s  _ nothing _ like me.”

Johyuk’s laugh was jarring, and when he left, a cloud of dread hovered over Jisung. 

“Where are you Changbin?” he murmured. He needed to know what was going on. He wouldn’t take no for an answer this time, not where Seungmin was concerned.

The wispy white curtains over the windows rose into the air, brushing his elbow. The windows were closed. No breeze. 

Ah, finally.

He peered beneath the curtain, relieved to find a hidden door. Hopefully he’d find Changbin on the other side.

Grass crunched beneath his feet, and he instinctively lifted his face to the warm golden sunlight pouring in through the canopy of leaves. He let the warmth cocoon him before his gazed drifted around the forest, searching for Changbin. A phantom breeze rustled the fronds that hung from gnarled branches, setting them to a constant shiver as if they were waving in welcome. He caught a whiff of the sweet, fruity fragrance that always lingered like the faintest touch of perfume. 

Once upon a time he’d called this place beautiful, but now it was the cause of his misery.

“Jisung?”

He jumped a mile into the air and turned around to find Changbin standing where the door had been. He narrowed his eyes, wondering whether the man was deliberately trying to scare him.

Changbin seemed grim, his face pale. “I know you want answers, and you’ll get them today.”

Jisung’s brows rose beneath his bangs, “I will?”

Changbin bowed his head once, “Yes, but…” His hesitation put Jisung on edge. “First you need to see Minho.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Changbin, c’mon. Just tell me what I need to know. I’m telling you, if something happens to my brother—”

“Johyuk won’t touch Seungmin.”

Jisung gaped, “So then – so then Johyuk is… What is he? Who is he?”

“He’s one of my people,” Changbin admitted. 

Honestly, Jisung had already suspected as much, but having it confirmed… “Look,” he swallowed thickly, “if you just tell me everything you know…” 

“I know you don’t trust me,” Changbin said, eyes downcast. “And I don’t blame you. Not one bit. But I promise, you’ll have your answers today. You just need to see Minho first.” He gestured ahead to where an oak door hovered a foot above the ground. “Go.”

Jisung sighed in frustration. Changbin hadn’t left any room for argument. And what else was he supposed to do? The door leading back to the hospital had disappeared. He could either wait stubbornly, or fulfil Changbin’s demands. Maybe seeing Minho wouldn’t be such a bad thing…

He trudged towards the hovering door, but not before shooting Changbin with a deathly glare. 

When he’d stepped through the door he’d anticipated a fall, something unexpected and dangerous. But he hadn’t plummeted to the ground or been forced to climb trees. The door had simply led him into a hallway, and he found the tip of his nose pressed against the front door of apartment 17B. 

But Jisung hadn’t yet gathered enough courage to knock yet. You see, when Jisung turned 21, he went through a phase. A phase that involved leather jackets and tight leather pants and heavy eyeliner smudged around his eyes. The only thing that didn’t completely embarrass him now was the blue hair – it really wasn’t that bad. But the rest of his outfit made him cringe in mortification. 

How could he face Minho looking like this? Two years had passed since Minho had last set sight on him. 

And he knew Minho had company in there because he could hear the murmur of voices. Oh, those murmurs had morphed into raised voices now. An argument maybe? Between who?

Jisung took a stumbling step back when the door flew open. With wide eyes, he pressed his back against the wall, and tried to look inconspicuous as he witnessed the scene playing before him.

“Hyunjin, I hate it when you’re like this!”

The man in question, spun on his heel to face Minho. “Because nothing I ever do is good enough for you! I treat you like a king, Minho. What more do you want?”

“It’s not about how you treat  _ me _ ,” Minho folded his arms over his chest, wisps of purple hair – Jisung’s eyes bulged at this – grazing his long eyelashes. “It’s about how you treat other people.”

“If I’m such a bad person, why don’t you break up with me?”

Minho nodded solemnly, “Maybe I will.”

“This is ridiculous,” Hyunjin muttered, turning away from him. He froze when he caught sight of Jisung, his eyes narrowing into slits. “And who the hell are you?”

Minho peered around Hyunjin’s shoulder, gaping when he locked eyes with Jisung. This time, he didn’t hesitate or seem confused. This time he didn’t seem angry or upset. Instead, a small smile graced his lips, “Jisung, you’re back.” He glanced at Hyunjin. “Jinnie, you remember me telling you about Jisung, right? My – my friend who visits every now and then?”

“The pickpocket? I remember him,” Hyunjin scoffed, scrutinizing Jisung from head to toe, before raising an eyebrow at Minho. “This is the kind of company you keep, and you have the audacity to make a judgement on  _ my _ character?”

Jisung cheeks burned, and he lowered his eyes in shame, recalling how Hyunjin and his friends had recognized him outside the diner. They wouldn’t understand. Neither of them could understand. He wished he could be like them – not having to worry where his next meal would come from – but he wasn’t that lucky. 

“You can leave, Hyunjin,” Minho said to the blonde haired man. “You were on your way out weren’t you?” He held Hyunjin’s glare when he said, “Jisung, why don’t you come in?”

Jisung could feel Hyunjin’s angry gaze burning into him as he slipped past Minho and into the apartment. “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he said when Minho closed the door behind them.

“I did it for me,” Minho corrected, leading Jisung out of the foyer and into a spacious living room. He sat down cross-legged on the couch, and patted the space beside him. “Hyunjin is an asshole.”

Jisung huffed out a laugh at that, and took in the well-decorated surroundings. If his calculations were correct, Minho was probably still in medical school, but this place seemed really nice for a student. But of course, Minho came from a wealthy family. They probably hadn’t wanted anything but the best for him.

He flopped down beside Minho and resisted the urge to pull him in for a hug. He looked soft in a fluffy pink sweater, only the tips of his fingers visible beneath the long sleeves. “So, um…” 

Minho expression grew serious, “I should be angry at you for turning up out of the blue again.”

Oh. Yeah, well, he didn’t blame Minho for that at all. “Minho, I’m so—”

“Actually, I should be afraid, right?” Minho frowned. “I mean, there’s a strange guy who always seems to know where to find me. He turns up once every few years and then he leaves again. It’s far from normal.”

“I know I—” 

“Shut up and listen, Jisung,” Minho cut him off again, his mouth twisting into a frown. Admonished, Jisung sat back and listened. “The thing is, this feels right.  _ You _ feel right. You feel  _ safe _ .” Jisung stared, wide eyed. “I know it’s stupid because we’ve only met a handful of times,” Minho lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “But it feels as if I know you. It feels right—” he tapped his chest, “here.”

Jisung knew exactly what Minho meant. Because he always felt it too. A comfortable weight that settled into his chest, an anchor that steadied him, that made him feel at  _ home _ whenever he was around Minho. 

He had to wonder whether it was something caused by their common link to Yellow Wood. Or whether it was something more. He couldn’t bear to think that the bond he felt with Minho had been  _ forged _ by a devious third party. Was it even real then? When Minho woke up would that bond just vanish?

“Jisung, why are you in such a daze?”

Jisung’s gaze snapped up, and he shook his head. “Thinking about…”

“About?” Minho pressed.

“About whether you’re real.”

Minho visibly flinched away from him, his offense written all over his face. “You’re questioning whether  _ I’m _ real?” he laughed blandly. “Really? When you’re the one who behaves so mysteriously? When you’re the one who keeps vanishing? Between the both of us, Jisung, I think  _ you’re _ likely to be a figment of my imagination, and  _ I’m _ the one who’s likely losing my goddamned mind!”

“Minho,” Jisung tried to placate him but Minho shifted further back into the couch, away from him. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t understand. You…” but he couldn’t explain. Not without breaking any rules. “I’m sorry. If you want me to leave…”

A knock sounded on the door and Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hyunjin, probably.”

Yeah, maybe Jisung had better go. With the way Hyunjin had humiliated him outside, it would probably be ten times worse if he saw Jisung sitting on Minho’s couch. He felt pathetic wanting to flee from the shame, but what else could he do? It wasn’t like Hyunjin had been wrong. Jisung was the wrong kind of company for Minho.

He rose with Minho, walking with him to the door. “You don’t have to leave,” Minho murmured, but he seemed unsure of himself.

He wrenched the door open with more force than necessary, and groaned again. Jisung didn’t recognize the young man that stood on the doormat. If Jisung looked like a troublemaker right then, this guy looked like chaos. He had jet-black hair, an entire litany of piercings on both ears and several cuts and bruises marred his face. He wore a bulky leather jacket and ripped jeans, his sneakers scuffed and riddled with brown dirt. 

“Not again,” Minho rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowing this again, Jeongin.”

Jeongin. Oh. His step brother. This definitely wasn’t how Jisung had expected Minho’s bratty step-brother to turn out. 

“Just let me crash here for a few days until I figure something out,” Jeongin shrugged, trying to push past Minho.

Minho firmly held out a hand. “I said I’m not doing this again. You’re in your senior year, Jeongin! You can’t be missing school all the time.”

“I’m not,” he trained his rebellious gaze on Minho. “I dropped out.”

“You… You what?” Minho gaped and then rubbed his hands over the sides of his face, clearly frustrated. “For fuck’s sake. Just come in.” He stepped aside, and Jeongin entered without a word of thanks or a glance in Jisung’s direction.

Minho slammed the door shut. Jisung had never seen him look so tired or defeated. “Hey,” he brushed his fingers lightly over Minho’s hair. “Wanna talk about whatever that was?”

Minho pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

With steaming mugs of coffee between them, they sat at the kitchen table while Minho told Jisung about Jeongin. Apparently, things had only gotten worse over the years. He did awful things just to get attention – stealing, getting into fights, getting expelled and moving from school to school. 

“And every time he has a fight with mom and dad, he shows up here like it’s some kind of hotel.”

_ …with mom and dad… _

Previously, Minho hadn’t seemed so fond of his step-mother, but it seemed as if he overcame that at some point. It brought a small smile to Jisung’s lips.

“Maybe he just needs someone to be there for him,” Jisung shrugged, trying to see things from Jeongin’s point of view. 

“But we are!” Minho threw his hands up in frustration. “We’ve been trying. We always bail him out of whatever mess he gets himself into. And he’s eighteen now! An adult! We shouldn’t have to babysit him like this.”

“Then—”

They both withdrew into silence at the sound of approaching footsteps. Jeongin headed straight for the refrigerator, throwing the door open and grabbing a bottle of orange juice. He looked at Jisung as he chugged from the bottle, and when he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he wore a smirk. His gaze shifted to Minho, “Does Hyunjin know you’re fucking this guy or…?” 

If Jisung didn’t know better he’d have punched that grin off Jeongin’s face. Minho flushed a deep shade of red, averting his eyes.

“It’s not like that, okay?”

Jeongin snickered in response and then gave Minho a sly glance. “Can I borrow your car?”

“You don’t have a license,” Minho snapped.

“But that hasn’t stopped me before.”

“Jeongin, I swear, I’ll—”

“Okay, okay,” Jeongin rolled his eyes and held his hands up in defence. “I’ll get Chan to pick me up.”

Jisung froze. No. There were a lot of Chan’s out there.

“I really hate that you’re still hanging out with that guy,” Minho scowled. “And he’s so much older than you.”

Jeongin snorted, “It’s not like we’re fucking, Minho. He’s a… co-worker, I guess.”

“And you’re not supposed to be working!” Minho slammed his mug down onto the table so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t break. “You’re supposed to be in school, but you’d rather do whatever illegal work that man has for you.”

Illegal work? No. It couldn’t be…

“It’s not like I’m stealing anything,” Jeongin glared at Minho. “I just sell stuff.”

“Stuff that’s been stolen from other people!”

Oh. Oh no. 

Jisung cleared his throat, “You’re not talking about Bang Chan, are you? Uh… CB Electronics?”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “How do you know Chan?” Realization dawned on his face. “You work for him too?” 

Jisung nodded, seeing no harm in divulging the truth. 

“See!” Delight danced in Jeongin’s eyes. “You’re such a hypocrite,” he shook his head at Minho. “You’re hanging out with someone who’s just like me but you look at me like I’m trash.”

Minho’s hands clenched into fists. “Jisung is nothing like you! He does whatever he has to do to survive. He doesn’t have a choice, but you do!”

“No,” Jisung sighed. “Minho, don’t – don’t defend me like that.” He got to his feet and turned to Jeongin. “You know what I realized? No matter the reason, what we do – stealing, taking things from other people – it’s wrong. Just because I don’t have anything, it doesn’t mean that I’m entitled to whatever someone else has. And you…” Jisung met Jeongin’s hard stare with one of his own, “I don’t know why you’re involved in all this shit, but whatever your reason is, you’re better than this.”

Jeongin’s lips curved into a smile, “Look at you being the moral police. Maybe you are better than that asshole Hyunjin.” He grabbed a shiny red apple from a dish on the counter, “You should break up with Hyunjin,” he casually told Minho. “Date this one instead.” He took a bite and through his mouthful, he added, “See you later. I’m taking the spare key so don’t wait up.”

“You see what I mean?” Minho asked when the front door slammed shut. “I just… There’s nothing we can do for him.”

Jisung hummed and took a seat at the table, his fingers steepled. “The thing about younger brothers…” he sighed. “I guess, sometimes even when we have their best interests at heart, they can’t see it that way.”

Minho looked deflated, his head resting on the polished wooden surface. “I have an exam to study for,” he murmured. With his cheek pressed to the table, he added, “We should watch a movie or something.”

Jisung laughed, “I’d love to play the devil’s advocate here, but I don’t want to be the reason you don’t study.”

Minho lifted his head off the table and gave Jisung a long, unreadable look. “You’re nice. Not just nice. You’re decent.”

Well, that was a first. 

“I mean it,” Minho smiled. “You’re a good person. And…” a slight blush began to bloom over his cheeks as he looked down at his hands. “You haven’t even tried to hold my hand or anything since you got here.”

Oh… Oh? Jisung felt his own cheeks beginning to warm. “I mean, I would have, honestly. But you have a boyfriend so…” He really wanted to hold Minho’s hand. Fuck, who was he kidding? He wanted to do a lot more than just hold Minho’s hand.

“Yeah,” Minho slumped back in his chair, not looking too happy. “Yeah, I do.”

“So uh…”

They wore similar expressions of exhaustion when another knock sounded on the door. 

“Are you serious right now?” Minho muttered, dragging his feet out of the kitchen, Jisung close behind.

When he opened the door, it was Jisung’s turn to groan. Changbin. “It can’t be time to go already,” he whined. 

Minho looked from Jisung to Changbin. “No. No, it’s too soon.” His fingers protectively wrapped around the sleeve of Jisung’s jacket. 

Changbin, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, gave Minho an apologetic smile. “It can’t be helped. He’s needed elsewhere.”

Jisung shook his head, “Listen, just give me another hour or two.”

“Answers, Jisung,” Changbin raised a brow in admonishment. “Remember?”

Oh…

“I’m sorry,” he apologised to Minho, heart sinking at the disappointment in the man’s eyes. “I – I’ll be back though, you know.”

“After how many years?” Minho asked in a whisper.

Jisung swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Because an apology was all he had to offer.

Minho nodded meekly. “Right,” he waved a hand towards Changbin. “You should get going.”

Jisung took a step outside, and allowed himself to place a hand on Minho’s shoulder, fingers resting on the warm, soft material of his sweater. “I can’t make any promises, Minho. But I certainly hope that one day this will all make sense.” 

Minho lifted a hand in a wave, before Changbin rudely pulled the door shut. Jisung turned on him with a scowl, “What’s your problem?” 

“You have somewhere to be,” Changbin said stiffly, motioning towards the door hovering a few feet away. 

Jisung gave him a scathing look before stepping through the door. “I swear, if I don’t get any answers today…”

He stepped back onto fresh green grass, the familiar scent of Yellow Wood welcoming him back. He turned on the spot, expecting to find Changbin behind him but there was neither a door, nor a stern-faced man. 

Had Changbin just ditched Jisung so he wouldn’t have to give him any answers? That was it. That was the last straw for Jisung. He’d had enough of this shit.

He pushed through the low-hanging fronds that blocked his way, determined to find his way out. But what he found instead, was a tall green hedge. Thick vines were woven through like coiling snakes. And a few feet away, was a neat archway carved into the hedge.

This was the entrance to The Heart.

Answers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have a great New Year 💗💗💗

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading 💕
> 
> For writing updates and spoilers follow me on Instagram: florathewriter
> 
> To hear me scream about my faves follow me on Twitter: flora_stays
> 
> And if you have any anonymous comments, criticisms or anything else:  
> CuriousCat


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